


Book One: Wind

by heavensweetheart



Series: The Legend of Zuko [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang has ADHD, Aang is the same tho, Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon Rewrite, Colonialism, Comfort/Angst, Demisexual Zuko (Avatar), Developing Friendships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friendship, Fun, GYATSO IS ALIVE!!, Gen, I just had to write it you know, I'm so hyped!, Katara can handle him, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Mutilation, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Sokka's middle name is bad puns and protective older brother, Team Bonding, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This is Zuko-centric of course it has angst!, Yeah you read that right, Zuko is angsty but endearing, Zuko is the avatar, and I managed to play a little with the plot to still include aang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 84,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensweetheart/pseuds/heavensweetheart
Summary: Water.Earth.Fire.Air.Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony, but everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.Nobody knows what happened to the past Avatar, and it is believed that he was never reborn and the cycle is broken. But after a Hundred Years, my brother and I meet face to face with a firebender named Zuko, who is none else that the ancient banished Fire Prince, and the missing Avatar for the past century. He has some attitude issues to solve along with mastering the four elements but...I believe Zuko can save the world.
Relationships: Aang & Katara (Avatar), Aang & Sokka (Avatar), Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Gyatso & Zuko (Avatar), Kanna & Katara (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: The Legend of Zuko [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736218
Comments: 159
Kudos: 466





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Lost Firebender](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23134990) by [callmecirce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmecirce/pseuds/callmecirce). 



_Earth._

_Water._

_Air._

_Fire._

_My grandmother used to tell me stories about the old days: a time of peace when the Avatar kept balance between the Water Tribes, Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation and Air Nomads. But that all changed when the Fire Nation attacked._

_Only the Avatar mastered all four elements; only he could stop the ruthless firebenders. But when the world needed him most, he vanished. A hundred years have passed, and the Fire Nation is nearing victory in the war. Two years ago, my father and the men of my tribe journeyed to the Earth Kingdom to help fight against the Fire Nation, leaving me and my brother to look after our tribe. Some people believe that the Avatar was never reborn and that the cycle is broken, but I haven't lost hope. I still believe that, somehow, the Avatar will return to save the world._


	2. Chapter 一: New life

**Katara**

_Okay, Katara, just focus and…_

“Sokka, look!”

Let me just… just…

It’s more than a little struggle for me to keep the bubble floating and following the track of the fish moving inside, but if I don’t make it follow the fish then it will fall. (It’s a tad gross to see a fish swimming so up and close like this, but I caught one!) (I caught one!)

Sokka hisses at me, hunching over the waters to catch his own fish. “ _Sshh!_ Katara, you’re going to scare it away.” (I correct myself, he’s not hunching over the waters to catch the fish, he’s hunching so his starving saliva will fall _in_ the waters instead of the canoe.) “Mmmm… I can already smell it cookin’.”

“But, Sokka! I caught one!”

Damn, is this fish trying to run – I mean, _swim_ – a marathon? I can barely keep up with its pace, I have to contort my hands and my whole body to follow through until I make the bubble hang over the canoe. Uh, over Sokka.

Of course he had to pick this moment to raise his spear! The dumb thing bursts my bubble!

“Hey!” I complain.

The sporty fish tumbles through the air and I follow it as it flies above my head, back into the sea. If I was crazy, I would say that he came back to the surface only to mock me.

“Why is it that every time _you_ play with magic water, _I_ get soaked?” Sokka squeezes his gloves to take the water out of them.

“It’s not ‘magic’,” I remind him, sternly and annoyed, but that’s basically how I always talk to my brother. “It’s _waterbending_. And it is…”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘an ancient art unique to our culture’, blah, blah, blah. Look, I'm just saying,” he grabs his ponytail to wring the water out of it, “that if I had weird powers, I’d keep my weirdness to myself.”

It’s not difficult for me to decide what my next reaction should be: I just cross my arms and raise an eyebrow.

“You’re calling _me_ weird? I’m not the one who makes muscles at myself every time I see my reflection in the water.”

 _Bless Sokka for proving my point!_ I get to smirk when he turns to me after… wait for it… flexing his muscles to his reflection in the water.

I feel my own dimples deepening with my triumphant smirk, _nothing_ can ruin this moment!

***

“ _You_ are the most _sexist_ ” – I bring my hands to my head and throw them back to give impulse to my screams – “ _immature_ ,” – I scratch my head for more insults that resume how angry I am right now – “ _nut brained_ ” – Did the floe just moved? No, of course not! I’m just stomping my feet _really_ hard! And ask me if I care! – “ _Ugh!_ I'm embarrassed to be related to you!”

“Uh… Katara?”

“Ever since Mom died,” I point to myself, “ _I’ve_ been doing all the work around camp while _you’ve_ been off playing soldier!”

“Uh…” Sokka’s mutter is longer this time. “Katara…”

“I even wash _all_ the clothes!” I remind him, in the brink of hysterics, beyond disbelief. (How come I’ve let _that_ to become my life?) “Have you ever smelled your dirty socks? Let me tell you: _Not. Pleasant!_ ”

“Katara, settle down!”

“No, that’s it! I’m done helping you! From now on, you’re on your _own_!”

I stumble when a giant wave makes the glacier shake, and I cover my ears when it hits against an (equally giant) iceberg not too far away from us.

Sokka gasps, I finally turn, just in time to witness the awakening of a number of fissures that snake their way up to the tip of the high ice block. Only one reaches to it, and the thick ice splits in a half through and through.

The two halves fall in opposite directions, away from one another, until they hit the water creating an even larger wave to flow towards us. It pushes our floe in an irregular course, moving and swaying it – _and_ us – with such force that it throws us into the air, and then to the ice.

On the floor, Sokka shields me from any upcoming damage as the waves continue to course and hit, but they subside shortly after.

“Okay, you’ve gone from ‘weird’ to ‘freakish’.” Sokka comments. He lets go of me.

I blink – (part of me still waiting for us to fall victims of a killer wave.) “You mean… _I_ did that?”

“Yep.” I can see a proud glance and smirk on my brother’s face. “Congratulations.”

_Awwwwwww!_

However, before we can celebrate, several little bubbles appear on the water’s surface. And just like that (like it indeed was magic) the ocean trembles once more to pull a strangely spherical iceberg out its depths.

Sokka and I jump back in surprise.

I should be scared, I _know_ I should be scared, but the more I look at this iceberg… it has such an unusual bluish glow. Blue, like the colors of our Tribe. _It’s beautiful!_ I stare at it, reaching out to touch it and recoiling. Without noticing – as if I was being yanked to it – I give a hesitant step closer.

Then another.

Up to where I am close enough to feel an even more unusual and illogical heat coming from that glow. This close I can see the ice is hollow, or at least hollow enough to contain a clearly human figure inside. (And a strange, bigger mass that I can make out properly.)

I approach some more to see if I can take guess what’s really inside, but – as if on cue – the glow becomes more intense, enough to let me see that the human figure is an _actual_ human. A boy around my brother’s age, with a strand of dark hair styled in a top knot. The only striking quality that I can discern from here is that the rest of his head is completely shaved. And there’s some weirdly colored spot on where his left eye should be.


	3. Chapter 二: New meetings

**Katara**

“Sokka,” I call out while I keep trying to get a clearer view of inside the iceberg. “There’s somebody in here!”

His words – ( _harrumph_ , excuse) – come out rapid-fire. “Well, they must be having a good time. We shouldn’t interrupt. Let’s go, Katara.”

And he turns to walk away. (As if there’s _anywhere_ to go when we are in the middle of the friggin’ blue.)

“We have to help!” I counter.

“Katara, we don’t even know _who’s_ in there. For all that we know, it could be some Fire Nation guy who got a fair punishment for messing with the Tribe. We have to leave. _Now_.”

“I won’t leave _anyone_ in a situation like this!”

Sokka bites his lip. For a moment, he looks more anxious than what I’ve seen him in a _long_ time. It truly looks like he could wrench his own mouth with his teeth.

“Katara,” he repeats, somewhat softer, but his eyes are glassy. They reflect an improbable mixture of emotion and unfeelingness. It accentuates the cold around us. “Let’s face cruel reality for once. This is an only-who-knows-how-cold iceberg that just emerged from the only-who-knows-how-deep ocean.” I shiver at what he is implying. “Who could possibly _survive_ something like that?”

I wince.

“If they’re not frozen by the cold, they’re drowned by the water,” he concludes.

I know _I’m_ feeling cold, but it is because of my own brother’s icy tone.

And for how accurate that assumption sounds.

But it can’t be true, can it? I can’t be staring a dead body, I couldn’t just get hyped only to be disappointed again. I can’t be facing more losses around my Tribe.

Can I?

I press my forehead to the ice, seeking some sign of life in there. Anything will be enough. A blink, a cough, a finger twitching. _Something_.

I focus my gaze on the boy’s face. The ice is way too blurry for me to get his features right, the only thing I can discern even squinting my eyes until they hurt is the red spot where his left eyes should be placed.

Oh, Spirits! What if Sokka’s right and this is a decomposing corpse?

My gaze falls slowly.

But it barely has time to get to the floor when his eyes open – the boy’s eyes open!

They’re not normal eyes, they’re irradiating the light that comes off from the iceberg. I scream when I reel back and fall to the snow again.

“Katara!” Sokka runs to me, his eyes big with concern. “Are you okay?”

“He’s alive!” I say, standing with one push and grabbing Sokka’s club from the sheath on his back.

“What?”

“He’s alive!” I repeat, not noticing the joy in my voice and pulling my hood over my head when I climb up to the ice again.

“Katara, get back here! We don’t know what that _thing_ is!”

 _We know now it’s not a dead corpse_ , I want to say, but I don’t bother; I’m happy. Excited. I’m happy to discover something, something that I have time to save, not like my mother. Or my father.

I smack the ice with Sokka’s club quite hard, but it’s not enough for it to break, so I smack it again. And again, and again.

Finally, the club breaks through the stone-like ice. A great gust of wind escapes from the globe, it throws me and my brother away again. (I think I already lost count on how many times I’ve hit my head against the snow today.)

Fissures form and quickly twist up their way to the dome’s peak until… it explodes.

The entire thing blows up shooting small stings of ice _everywhere_. Sokka and I cover ourselves to keep the needles from stabbing us and for protecting our eyes from the blinding ray of unnaturally white light emerging from the former iceberg and towards the sky.

The earth (or more like the _ocean_ ) trembles.

Or maybe both the earth _and_ the ocean tremble.

There’s some force shaking everything around us, inflicting its power over all things close and on the distance. My head swims for all of the commotion. There are hits and explosions and waves, and too much for me to get ahold of it all. Sokka clutches me to his side to keep us from separating during this earthquake/tsunami/tornado, and I clasp his jacket until I can’t feel my blood flowing through my fingers.

It… stops.

As sudden as it all began.

Only ghostly silence spreads around us while we stare at a huge crater where the iceberg used to be.

It still emanates that unusual bluish light though.

Sokka is fast to grab his club from the floor and push both of us up to our feet, putting me behind his back in a protective way. I continue to hold on to him, like when we were kids and I was always afraid because everything seemed bigger than me.

A figure comes out from the crater.

Sokka yells. “Stop!”

The figure looks down at us, with a shining stare. They are not human eyes either, they are spots of that blinding white beam. Its expression is not angry. (Well, somehow it _is_ – its frowning after all – but it oddly doesn’t _feel_ angry); it’s more like focused. Powerful and with the knowledge of that power.

The circles of light dissipate gradually. The incorporeal light turns into human skin patch by patch.

Turns out the figure is a young boy, I somewhat recognize him as the one I saw inside the ice, but slightly different. Now I can tell his top-knot is in fact some sort of ponytail, and that red spot is abraded, fleshy skin. Obviously a burn.

He falls. Faints. Crumbles down in a mere lifeless breathe.

I run to catch him.

***

The mysterious boy’s breathing is even while he is asleep, so at least he didn’t drown like Sokka supposed. His skin is slightly warmer than normal for the South Pole, but not enough for it to be so much of an alarming fever.

“Sokka, look at his clothes,” I point out.

Garnet red, wine red, and blood red attires with gold-colored embroidery. Black leather boots.

Fire Nation clothes.

“ _Fire Nation_ ,” Sokka whisper-growls. “ _I knew it!_ ”

“But look at his burn,” I observe in much rational tone, “It doesn’t look like they have been very nice to him either.”

“What can you expect from a country of murderous, blood-thirsty freaks?”

“I didn’t know firebenders drank blood,” I reply sarcastically.

“I don’t think they’re _above_ that.”

I settle for an agreeing silence.

But still, could this boy have been hurt by the Fire Nation? What is he doing so far away from his home anyway? I continue studying his face kneeled beside him.

Maybe it is just _really_ uncalled for the situation, but the only word I can think for describing him is _“handsome”_. His features are soft yet sculpted, his cheekbones are prominent and definite, even the one that was affected by the burn in his face. His scar is notorious, a little too vivid and gory, especially against his rather pale skin; but somehow it does not interferes with his allure.

I stare at it.

“Uh… Katara?”

I yelp quietly. “Yes?”

Sokka arches an eyebrow at me. “You okay? You looked… uh… kinda hypnotized.”

“ _Pfft!_ Of course I wasn’t.”

I turn to advert his gaze.

Back to the matter at hand, is this boy really a threat? He looks around eighteen. Does the Fire Nation army enlists men from that age?

A soft roar comes from inside the crater.

“What was that?” I wonder, alert for more surprises.

“I don’t know,” Sokka says, “Stay here with that sleeping-guy, at least we know he’s too tired to fight us. I’ll check it out.”

I follow him with my eyes as he hikes and then slides down the hole.

A moment later, my ears almost break for how high-pitched he screams.

The Fire Nation boy wakes up with a start, his golden eyes shocked and wide open. “Druk!”

I shriek and fall back.

He doesn’t do so much as looking at me before he rushes up and towards the inside of the former iceberg where he was trapped. I follow him.

“What the hell?” he demands, staring between Sokka and… a dragon? “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What am _I_ doing?” Sokka retorts, pointing to himself and then to the boy like Sokka was the most normal person in the world while the boy had three eyes. (Or a pet dragon.) “What are _you_ doing, freezing off with a dragon? How do you even _freeze_ off with a dragon?”

“That’s none of your business!” the Fire Nation boy bites out. “Stay away from my dragon!”

“Gladly!” Sokka glares at him.

The boy runs up to the dragon while Sokka approaches me. “See, Katara? This is what we earn for helping people. Dragons and douchebags.”

The boy turns to look at us. “How did you just call me?”

If looks could kill, my brother would be several meters underground.

“Douchebag,” my stupid, macho-men wannabe brother repeats. “A problem with that, douchebag?”

Apparently he does has a problem with it, because he stalks towards Sokka with such an air of rage and authority and a scowl that makes _him_ look like a dragon.

“Hey!” I step between the two of them with a painfully forced smile on my face. “I think we started off with the wrong foot. Let’s start over again. My name is Katara,” I point to myself looking at the boy straight in the eye. “And this is my brother Sokka,” I point to Sokka. “And you are…?”

He stares me with so much of an unimpressed gaze that I have to fight _really_ hard to not consider it offensive.

“Zuko,” he answers finally.

Sokka scoffs. “Classic douchebag name.”

I stomp on his foot.

“Nice to meet you, Zuko,” I say instead.

He turns around without a second-thought. “Right.”

I blink at his back, dumbfounded.

“Uh… Excuse me; manners,” I remind him.

He doesn’t answers.

Sokka was right, this is what I earn for helping others. “Hey!”

“What?” He has the _nerve_ to look annoyed.

“Don’t _what_ me!” I retort. “I just introduced myself – after saving you from freezing inside a freaking iceberg, by the way – the least you can do is answer with some courtesy!”

“Fine.” He bows stiffly enough for it to appear respectful. “Nice to meet you. Now leave, _peasants_.”

My eyes widen. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

He rolls his eyes, looking even _more_ annoyed. “You already said that.”

“I know that, _asshole_!” I give a confrontational step towards him. “And _‘douchebag’_ is officially too much of a nice name for you!”

Sokka laughs. “You know what, Katara; I take it back. This turned out to be more fun than what I expected.”

“Shut up!” I say at the same time as the boy – Zuko. The asshole.

Before we have time for our banter to escalate, the dragon behind Zuko’s back makes somewhat of crying sound and Zuko’s eyes widen with such raw concern is hard to believe he is the same boy that was just dismissing me like I was nothing.

He rushes to the dragon’s side and examines him, petting him comfortingly. “Druk, you okay, pal?”

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask, giving another step to approach, but now with mild curiosity and worry.

“It is the cold,” Zuko explains almost absently, too carried away by his apprehension to realize he’s talking to me. “It is affecting his blood flow.”

“Oh, no!” I finally get to… _Druk_ ’s side and hesitantly place my hands over his scales. They are cool to the touch but not cold.

“Don’t touch him!” Zuko yells at me in a rage.

I pull my hands away and glare at him with such force my eyes are barely open. “ _Fine!_ But let me tell you that if I go to look for something to help him in our village, it will be for _him_ , not you!”

“Your village,” he muses with an air of superiority that makes me want to drown him in the depths of the ocean. “Thanks for the offer, _peasant_ , but I doubt we will ever fall low enough to depend on _you_.”

 _Ugh!_ “You know what? I’m done with you! I should have let you drown and then freeze off under the ocean! In fact, why don’t I make you drown and then freeze off under the ocean myself?”

“That’s my waterbender sister!” Sokka cheers.

“You are a waterbender?” Zuko wonders with just the slightest newfound appreciation in his eyes.

“What was it that you said to my brother earlier?” I pull out an innocent, thoughtful expression. “Oh. Yeah, that’s right: _That’s none of your business!_ ”

Zuko bristles and scowls down at me. “You’re right, I have nothing to do with Water Tribe peasants business.”

“I swear, you call me and my brother _‘peasants’_ one more time and I – ”

“You _what_?”

Druk cries again. Zuko’s face repeats the switch from arrogant and angry to concerned and caring.

“Go away!” he roars at us. “I don’t have time to deal with you!”

And, just as sudden as his switching of emotions, he breathes fire into his bare hands and places them over Druk. The dragon gives a small comforting sound in response.

“Firebender!” Sokka exclaims. “I knew it!”

He yanks me by the arm to push me behind his back and aim his club at Zuko. “What are you doing here? On a recognition mission? You were charged to burn our entire village for your kind to have more free real estate?”

Zuko looks even more unimpressed than what he looked with me earlier. But also slightly confused.

“Sokka,” I say, “don’t you think that if he was here for attacking us, he would be doing so instead of using his firebending to warm up a dragon?”

“I see now who the smarter sibling is,” Zuko observes.

“You’re not answering the questions,” Sokka pushes forward.

“What questions?” Zuko pushes the club away with his hand. “The ones of a low-class that doesn’t even know what he is talking about?”

I put my hand on Sokka’s shoulder. “Sokka, leave him. He’s not a threat, he’s just an idiot who we should have never encountered. You were right, and I’ll be doing all your laundry for the rest of the year to compensate it to you. Now let’s go.”

He doesn’t look very convinced, but still complies after squinting his eyes at Zuko, but I don’t want to think if he’s embarrassing himself by trying to look deductive or threatening.

I drag him by the arm out of the ice crater.

“Well, you certainly have a good eye for boys, Katara,” he says once we are out in the sunlight.

I feel like I’m getting sick.

Our canoe is floating upside down on the distance, I think I could bring it here with a small use of my bending. I pull the current closer and closer to us.

I guess I didn’t realize I was also pulling other chunks of ice from the glaciers we smashed earlier. One in particular standing erect with a big, sharp peak hanging down in our direction when it passes near to us.

The peak breaks.

Before we have time to duck and scream, a huge red and yellow fireball hits the ice and shatters it. Smaller shots continue to come up keeping the minor pieces from striking us as well.

Sokka and I turn to find Zuko standing at the upper border of the hole in his bending stance. He looks so perfectly in control he seems older and wiser than a normal eighteen-year-old boy would be.

“I see you do _great_ on your own, too.”

I would get mad at his condescending remark… but something’s not right with him. He looks dizzy.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He stumbles forward, trying to gain a share of balance. “Yes.”

He faints once again.


	4. Chapter 三: New friends

**Zuko**

_Father… Forgive me…_

_Azulon…_

_Fire._

_Pain!_

I wake up with a violent gasp.

My own heavy breathing resounds in my ears; I feel nauseous. My head spins and pounds, it takes me several hard blinks of my eyes to focus my stare.

I am looking up to the ceiling of a raised tent, lying on my back on something soft and warm. My fingers find the strands of the artic panda and polar fox covers coating me.

This place is cold nevertheless…

Something shuffles outside.

A girl – clearly Water Tribe for the ethnic of her features – peeks her head inside the tent.

“Oh! You’re awake, finally!” She steps in and, too overconfidently for my taste, comes to sit in the camp bed were I am lying. “I thought I heard something inside.”

I grab my head to fight the pounding. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” she answers. “Twice.”

_Fainting?_

“Wait. I remember you,” I say as the thoughts clear themselves. “You are that Water Tribe girl.”

“Katara,” she reintroduces herself. “And you are Zuko. How could I forget?”

Her mouth forms a teasing smirk at that last part.

“Where are we?”

I scan the tent. It is minimalistic, at best, filled only with this bed and a few Water Tribe garnets.

“In the Southern Water Tribe,” the girl indicates.

“The Southern Water Tribe,” I repeat, muttering; feeling myself fall into humiliation. I prop my head against the pad, my eyes shoot towards the ceiling. “ _Perfect._ ”

“It _is_ indeed perfect, ain’t it?” she retorts, still with that lively grin on her face. “Not everyone would have received such a… _delightful_ Fire Nation boy like you.”

I frown at her. “If I am so unwelcome, then why am I here?”

“It wasn’t easy to convince the rest of the Tribe to bring you here. But after my brother and I explained Gran-Gran how we found you… and how you saved us… she agreed for us to let you stay. You looked like you needed plenty of rest.”

“Gran-Gran?”

Her smile widens. “That’s how we call our grandmother.”

I grimace. “How old are you? Like seven?”

“I’m sixteen,” she replies. “How old are _you_? Cranky middle-age?”

“I am eighteen!”

“I thought so,” she says, not ironically.

A thought fires itself through my mind. A red, scaly memory.

“Wait a minute! Druk!”

I sit in one push – I would launch myself out to look for him if I could – but the brusque motion only makes my head ache harder! _Ugh!_

“Easy, fiery boy.” The girl – Katara; (I guess I should call her by her name to avoid unnecessary confusions) – places her hands on my shoulders.

They are the warmest thing I have felt the entire day.

They push me to lay back on the bed.

“Druk is fine. You can thank my genius brother for that.”

“What do you mean?” I don’t remember _him_ being the sharpest two-set tool on the shed.

“We also told the others about Druk and how he needed help, too. Once we brought you here, Sokka made some sort of motor with some garnets he found. He had to make plenty, actually. It was the only way for them to push Druk while he still was on that crater where we found you.” Her smile acquires a proud expression. “Sokka can be very crafty when he wants to.”

“Good for him.” I look at the ceiling again.

Katara’s stare pierces through me though, and I slowly drift my eyes back to her.

She looks slightly different with the hood of her coat off; a little more mature, but still with those rather child-like rounded cheeks. I already said her features are as ethnic and pronounced as any tribesperson – with her hair also styled in the traditional tribal hair loops on top of two long braids falling down each of her shoulders – except for her nose, which is somewhat wider and plainer than standard. However, somehow it fits perfectly with how particularly big and separated her eyes are.

It is unusual, how her peculiar facial features suit so flawlessly with each other.

Especially her eyes; they are broad and a bright sapphire blue color. It looks even shinier framed by her long, dark eyelashes.

They are looking intently at me. At my scar.

“What?”

Her head shakes to pull her out of whatever trance she was in. “Nothing. Sorry. I was just wondering… how did you get into that iceberg?”

I dart my eyes away from hers. “I… um… was on a trip. Alone, with Druk. There was… a storm. And we fell into the sea.”

“How long were you in there? There hasn’t been any storms recently.”

“I…” I dig inside my head for an answer convincing enough. “I am not sure, really. It could have been a few days.”

“Or a few weeks,” Katara concludes. “And what were you doing travelling so far away from the Fire Nation? Were you running away?”

I stiffen. “Of course not! I…”

My sentence trails off, I feel my stomach tie itself in a tight knot. I can’t answer, not with the truth. I can’t _confront_ the truth.

_Coward!_

“Did you have problems with the army?”

I look at Katara again. “The army?”

“Are you deserter?” she inquires, a small spark of hope lightening her eyes, “You would be kind of a hero if you were a deserter.”

“A deserter of the Fire army?”

She nods. “After everything they have done to my tribe… meeting a deserter could give the others some of the hope they have lost.”

Even when her words are rational and collected, there is an aura of emotion around her. It warms the inside of the tent.

The knot in my stomach tightens itself. “I…” _I’m sorry to disappoint you. Honestly._ “I’m not a deserter. Sorry.”

Her gaze falls, and for a moment her eyes lose some of that striking brightness. Although she is quick to return them to me and raise her shoulders in a casual shrug, “Nothing to be sorry about. As long as you don’t wear Fire Nation military clothes, everything is fine.”

The feeling – that tension stirring me from the inside – keeps growing and growing. I would like to ask what has made her and the Tribe hate the Fire Nation so much, but… there is something wrong.

She said I could have been on that iceberg for _weeks_ …

My father, did he… He couldn’t have put his plan into action so quickly. It couldn’t have been effective so quickly. 

Fear makes my skin prickle, and the sole recognition of fear brings even more shame to me.

_Coward!_

“You okay?” Katara’s voice returns me to reality. “You look a little distressed.”

“No, no,” I say, sighing and passing a hand through my face. “I am fine.”

She eyes me carefully, unconvinced, but drops the subjects: “Mm-hmm. You better come outside meet the others. The entire Tribe has been thrilled to meet you for the past two days.”

“ _Two days?_ ” I prop myself on one elbow. “I’ve been asleep for _two days_?”

“Told you, you needed rest.”

“Yes, I realize that now.” I pull myself together to sit on the bed, the covers fall and puddle on my lap – and apparently, it turns out I’m freaking shirtless!

_What the – !_

Katara’s blue eyes soften with appreciation as they stare at my torso. The scars on my chest and stomach are showing.

I pull the covers up before she sees more of something I would rather she did not. “Um… Where are my clothes?”

Her thump hooks in direction of a pile of folded fabric on a corner.

“Over there,” she says. Smirking.

That is when it downs me she probably already saw more than what she should have in the first place.

_Damn it!_

And I am _blushing_!

 _Damn_ me _!_

Katara scoffs and heads towards the exit. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

I watch her get out of the tent.

*******

Effectively, Katara is waiting for me outside once I step into the snow.

In some way, she looks contrasting and belonging to the surroundings. Her silhouette clashes against the eerily white snow with her vibrant blue and purple parka and clothing, and her rich dark brown hair, with its loose strands blowing with the wind; and her glowing skin – I mean, her skin looks… healthy?

Yet, at the same time, the snow matches her weird innate aura of purity. As though all the landscape was a halo made solely for her.

“Rise and shine, sunny!” She beams once I get out.

I grimace. (I correct myself: her aura is one of pure _annoyance_.)

I follow the sound of laughter close to us and find a bunch of little kids playing with Druk – of all dragons – sliding through his tail and petting his back and nose. Druk’s eyes are playful and joyous like I haven’t seen them in a long time. He’s even smiling! – I mean… if dragons could smile.

Relief fills my lungs and I breathe out my contentment. I would run straight to embrace him, but I don’t want to spoil his fun. Not yet.

He deserves some fun. We have gone through some difficult times.

“Hey, everyone!” Katara calls towards the kids and a few tents similar to ours forming a circular arrange. “Zuko’s awake!”

She doesn’t have to say it twice before her brother emerges from one of the tents, frowning. Specifically, in _my_ direction.

He is followed by a stern-looking old lady and a small group of women, women only. The kids quickly come join the adults, embracing them and hiding behind their backs.

Katara turns to me once again. “Zuko, _this_ is the entire village.” She spins to face the others. “Entire village, Zuko.”

“ _This_ is your entire village?” I ask, more than baffled. “What happened to the men?”

In a blink, Katara’s brother is in my face, snarling at me. “Your _kind_ happened to them,” he growls.

I am not appalled enough to step back, but I have to restrain myself _very_ strongly to not send him flying with a fire blast.

Katara sighs. “Zuko, I’m sure you remember my brother Sokka.”

“I remember a nut-brained boy with a high-pitched voice that left you to fight his battles,” I say, looking at her brother straight in the eye.

“What did you just say?” (If his intention was for _that_ to come out as a hysterical squeal, then he succeeded _admirably_.)

Katara proceeds: “And this is our grandmother. The one that let us have you stay.”

Stretching my neck, I look over the dumb boy’s shoulder to meet the gaze of the stern-looking old woman. She _does_ have a remarkable resemblance to Katara, except without the permanent cheerfulness and sass.

“You can call me Gran-Gran,” the woman declares with an acknowledging nod.

I step aside from the manic village boy and bow respectfully to her. “I appreciate you giving me asylum. Thanks.”

( _Yes_ , I remember what I told Katara about me ever depending on them, but I am not above recognizing when I am in times of need.) (Expressing gratitude is the most honorable thing to do.) (Sifu Roku would be proud.)

She considers me under her hard scrutiny – with just a shade of approval at my politeness – until I finally receive another consenting nod. “For what I’ve heard, I should be the one thanking you. My granddaughter told me how you saved her and her brother.”

“ _Her brother_ didn’t really say anything about you,” Katara completes smirking mockingly at her brother.

“No need to thank me,” I say.

Katara’s grandmother is the only elder in the village – if such a small group can be called a village at all – and the only woman that is not accompanied by at least one young child. The other women are shielding who I assume are their respective sons and daughters, the children stare intently and fearfully at me.

Katara notices, too. She leans forward to look at their faces more eye-to-eye level. “Don’t worry,” her voice is impossibly soft and kind, “Zuko’s a friend.”

Before puzzlement can settle over me upon her choice of words, the kids beam like she just said the most absolute of the truths and rush to my sides now fearless.

“Your clothes are pretty!” Some of them yank at my coat.

“I wanna touch your head!” Some others just jump around like they could indeed reach my scalp that way.

“Show us some fire!” The others take my hands way too confidently.

“You wanna play with us?”

“Hey, you didn’t say anything about babysitting!” I look up at Katara trying to shush the brats away.

“He will _love_ to play with you!” she tells them.

“Yay!” The kids cheer and bounce, still clinging to me.

“But he _can’t_ ,” Katara’s brother interferes. “The men of the Tribe have strategic training today.”

“Training? They are _children_ ,” I debate.

“They’re men in the works!” he counters and gathers the young boys to pull them away from me.

A strangely uneasiness flows through me. However, I merely shrug the idiot off.

“Whatever you say. I was on my way out anyway.”

“You’re leaving?” Katara comes close to me with shock drawn in her features.

“Yes,” I say, turning away already. “Thanks again for your hospitality – I mean that – but Druk and I have to go.”

“Where are you going?” she questions. (For how close her voice sounds, I would say she is following me.)

“I am not sure yet,” I admit, “I guess we will find out along the way. Right, pal?”

I place my hand on Druk’s giant nose once I reach him. He nuzzles into the small piece of my skin.

“You ready to go?”

He blows a cloud of smoke and ashes through his nose to hit me in the face.

“I take that as a _‘maybe’_.”

Katara’s brother laughs.

As much as I would like to focus on my anger at the fool, I am too caught up in the bizarreness of this situation. (Imagine it! Not even a peasant’s laughter can make this more embarrassing than what it already is!)

I rub the ashes off my face.

“I don’t think he’s in condition to travel just yet.” Katara twists to face me. “Neither do you, you should take it easy for a few more days. What about if you faint again while you’re travelling?”

“I will be fine,” I assure her.

Druk cries quietly.

“Okay, we will stay until you feel better, too,” I concede him.

His eyes light up again and he comes near to snuggle me.

Much to my surprise, he snuggles Katara next.

“ _Awwww!_ ” she coos, returning the embrace, “He’s so cute!”

I can testify nobody has ever referred to Druk as _‘cute’_ before.

“I’m quite surprised you have a dragon with you,” Katara’s grandmother watches the scene near us, “no one has seen one in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct, until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”

“Extinct?” I repeat, not hiding my disbelief. _A hundred years?_ “You must be mistaken, the Fire Nation is _filled_ with dragons.”

She shrugs. “Perhaps. It would make the most sense. But since no foreigner has visited the Fire Nation in a hundred years either…”

I recall my thoughts from earlier. _Something is wrong._

_A hundred years?_

“Well, enough nature and geography studies,” Katara’s brother proclaims. “Men, to the front lines!”

He marches away and his stance is dreadful and ridiculous. It is a physical offense to any military. It would seem less absurd if even the little boys walking behind him looked the slightest interested in his so-called training.

“Sokka’s right, no more talk,” his grandmother agrees. “Come on, Katara, you have chores,” she reminds her strictly.

She exits as well, followed by the rest of the women like loyal followers to their leader. They pass next to Katara and me on their way out, I catch glance of some of their distrusting and disapproving glances. Katara merely gives me one last fleeting look before following, too.

***

“Now men, it's important that you show no fear when you face a firebender.” Katara’s brother brings out his club and holds it proudly. “In the Water Tribe, we fight to the last man standing! For without courage, how can we call ourselves _men_?” He holds the club into the sky, clutching to it for emphasizing the word _‘men’_.

What a touching speech and pose!

Too bad the six-year-olds he is talking to have other things in mind:

“I gotta pee!”

The _oh-so-worthy_ Water Tribe commander frowns. “Listen! Until your fathers return from the War, they're counting on you to be the men of this tribe, and that means _no potty breaks!_ ”

He makes some sort of gestures with his arms to emphasize that as well, I wonder if it is a nervous tic of his.

“But I really gotta go!” the poor child pushes forward.

The wannabe-admiral sighs. “Okay, who else has to go?”

Every other of the boys immediately raises his hand.

Katara’s brother – who, _yes_ , I _still_ refuse to acknowledge by his name – smacks his own forehead with the palm of his hand. I snort.

 _That_ finally catches his attention. His head turns and he notices me watching his ‘training session’.

It is almost fascinating how the emotions go through his face so quickly, from surprise to antagonism. “ _You?_ ” he says, dismissing his ‘soldiers’. “What are _you_ doing here?”

He walks to me in what, I assume, is his attempt of threatening pose. “Spying on our war tactics for your country?”

“Oh, please!” I reply letting sarcasm fill my voice. “As if the made-up ‘war tactic’ of a peasant with deliriums of greatness would be worthy of spreading.”

He _tsk_ ’s through his teeth, gritting them, making heated and irritated sounds. ( _Now_ I wonder if this is how he lets out the stress whenever he restrains his arm motions.)

“What do you want?” he inquires, recovering a share of composure, “I have to train the tribesmen for the War!”

“That is what I wanted to talk you about,” I say, fixing myself to the seriousness of the matter. “Can you tell me more about the war?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t you know enough about that already? I don’t care if you’re running away, I’m sure you spent enough time in the Fire Nation to learn that you guys are the ones who are winning.” His smile is tight at the corners. “Congrats!”

“Tell me something else,” I request. “Like… when did the war start?”

He looks at me like I went crazy. It is with extravagant facial expressions like this that his and Katara’s familial resemblance comes to light.

“Didn’t you go to school, Mister Hot-Shot? – No pun intended. Well… maybe a little. But the whole _Hundred Year War_ thing? Not even the _name_ tells you _anything_?”

Disturbing fright mutes me.

“Hey, what are you two talking about?”

We both turn to Katara’s voice coming close. Her boots dig deep into the snow with each of her steps.

“Our new friend here has questions about the War,” her brother tells her. “I know my knowledge on the topic is valuable, and for that reason I can’t waste it in such unimportant conversations.”

He spins around and waves at us. “Later.”

Katara and I glare at his back.

“Forgive him,” she apologizes, “I guess he’s just acting like that because he doesn’t like benders of any kind.”

“Right,” I say, facing her, “And you are a waterbender, aren’t you?”

“That’s right!” her brother chips in from the distance. “Katara’s a waterbender, you’re a firebender, together you can just waste time _all_ day long!”

_Not as much as you are wasting other people’s air every time you talk._

“Forgive him again,” Katara repeats.

A strand of her hair falls in front of her ear, and she brushes it back.

“See, Zuko…,” she says delicately, letting my name trail off. “I was thinking. Since you’re a firebender and all… would you like to spar with me some time?” she concludes excitedly. “You know, for training and stuff.”

“You want to spar with me?” I wonder with amused astonishment. _She has no idea, does she?_

“Katara won’t be sparring with anyone!” Like a very bad magic trick, her brother materializes next to her, darkening my view. He takes Katara by the wrist as if to yank her away from me. “And much less with a bloodthirsty firbender like you!”

“I can assure you I have never drank blood in my life.”

_I have only felt it dripping from and over my skin._

“Cut it out, Sokka!” Katara jerks her hand away. “I can spar with whoever I want! Which it isn’t many people, because there aren’t any other benders around!”

“What do you mean, there aren’t any other benders around?” I query.

“That’s none of your business!” her brother yells.

“Technically it is _my_ business because he’s talking to _me_ ,” Katara steps up.

Her brother groans. “Whatever, but you’re not sparring with no firebender!”

“I can do so if I want to!”

“Then I’m telling Gran-Gran!”

“ _Fine!_ ” Katara bites out after him when he begins walking towards the camp. It is so forceful I can hear her teeth clanking with the snap of her jaw.

She rolls her eyes. “Sorry about that. Siblings, huh?”

Against my own will, two contrary emotions form inside of me. My gaze falls and the corner of my mouth curves upwards. “Yes,” I agree.

“You have siblings?”

 _I_ had _one_. “A brother. Younger brother.”

“Oh… Then I guess you’re more on Sokka’s side on the _‘big brothers team’_.”

“I know I never treated my younger brother like he was so much of a little kid.”

Katara laughs. “Sokka is overprotective.”

“I can see that,” I say. “What was it that you were saying about not having other benders around?”

“You’re looking at the _only_ waterbender in the South Pole,” she spins in place to elaborate her own presentation. “But I’m not even a complete waterbender yet, I have nobody to teach me.”

“If that is the case, you should think it twice before asking to spar with a master firebender.”

She gives a step closer to me – for entering my personal space – jabbing at my chest with her index finger. For our height difference, she has to look up from under her eyelashes. (From here, I can tell they naturally curl upwards at their ends.)

“You think you’re hot stuff?” she says.

I fight the urge to back off and pass a hand over my face to alleviate its sudden, inexplicable heat.

“Why don’t you go to the North Pole?” I offer. “To the other Water Tribe. Perhaps you can find a master there.”

“Maybe, but we haven't had contact with our sister tribe in a long time. It's not exactly ‘turn right at the second glacier’. It's on the other side of the _world_.”

I meditate on this. “What about if Druk and I take you there when we leave?”

Her eyes widen. She looks at me like she just saw the first ray of light after years of obscurity. “You would do that?”

I shrug. “It is not that much of a big deal.”

“I mean…,” she hesitates, “I don’t know. I’ve have never left home before.”

“ _Katara!_ ” (Her brother made good on his promise of calling their grandmother.) “I said you had chores!”

“Sorry!” she exclaims. Yet, her apologetic look is directed to me before she departs once more.

**Katara**

I half-run to Gran-Gran.

“Tattletale!” I mutter to Sokka when I brush past him.

It is Gran-Gran the one that frowns at me. “I _heard_ that,” she remarks, “Don’t blame your brother instead of taking responsibility for your actions.”

“I did nothing wrong!” I argue.

“You ran away when we were doing the laundry,” she reminds me.

“And to talk to a _firebender_!” Sokka intercedes.

“What’s wrong with that?” I retort. “I’m a bender. I should learn how to hold myself in front of other benders.”

“She wants to spar with him, Gran-Gran!” he squeals. “She said so!”

“ _What?_ ”

“I only asked him to…”

“Katara, have you gone insane?” Gran-Gran approaches me with more concern than fury; holding on to my arms, disbelieving. “I can’t let you go near any firebending!”

Guilt makes it difficult to look at her big, tired eyes – ( _my_ eyes) –when they’re so glassy with distress.

“I’m okay, Gran-Gran.” It’s the only thing that I can muster to say. Because I _am_ okay. (I’ve _always_ been okay.) “And Zuko, he…” I take a brief glance at him over my shoulder. “He doesn’t look so bad. Maybe he would be nice…”

Sokka throws his head back like he could laugh, but for once there’s no humor in his expression. “Ha! You’re expecting a _firebender_ to be _nice_ when you’re _sparring_ against him? Are you sure that ice peak didn’t stab you in the _brain_?”

I glare at him.

“Your brother is right, Katara,” Gran-Gran says, “You shouldn’t put all of your hopes in this boy.”

“But I finally found a bender to teach me!” I cry, stomping my foot into the snow.

I turn to look at Zuko once again. He’s gone.

**Zuko**

The villagers made another tent (one much bigger than their typical ones) for housing Druk while we remain in the Tribe. Their speed of response and problem-solving abilities are amazing, especially considering the Southern Water Tribe’s lack of supplies.

What made them fall into such an impoverished state?

My father was never eager to make business or maintain communication with the other nations, but from what I remember the Southern Water Tribe used to be… lively.

“Hello, friend,” I greet Druk once I enter his new shelter. He immediately comes to nuzzle me in response.

“You seem to be doing a whole lot better,” I observe, caressing him for my own comfort. (I feel like I haven’t petted him in _ages_.)

“Say, Druk… you think you would remember if we had spent a hundred years frozen... Right?”

He eyes me with the confusion a question like _that_ merits.

“I know, it sounds crazy, but…”

He makes a soft roaring sound.

“Yes. I know the last thing we did was leaving the Palace after… – ” bile rises in my throat. My hand flies to my scarred eye. It has healed, but it still feels fresh and foreign.

“I…” My hands shake. “Stay still for a moment,” I tell Druk.

I climb up to his saddle, and reach for my bag – the rather small sac I took as my luggage when we first left.

Emptiness washes over me at everything I left behind. I don’t remember wanting to take anything with me upon my departure, I don’t remember wanting to leave anything in the Palace with my brother there to take it without permission. I just remember fear and confusion and my hands clasping the first things my eyes registered.

I pull my sword cases out and withdraw my Dao swords. The razor-sharp edge brushes metallically with the case producing a sound that matches the blade’s cold reflection of beam.

Jumping down from the saddle, I land perfectly on my feet and show Druk the swords for him to study them as well.

“They don’t look a hundred-years rusted to me,” I conclude, proceeding to try my fighting moves. (I _do_ feel like I’m rusty at _that_.)

I perform a series of spiraling and transversal cuts into the thin air in front of Druk’s attentive gaze. Mechanically and flexibly, I spin and push my swords forward, changing my position simulating attacks from different directions.

When I’m done, I return the swords to the sheath on my back, taking in that metallic brush. The corner of my mouth curves pronouncedly uphill.

“ _Whoa!_ ”

I yelp back and find Katara gaping at me from the entrance.

“That was _awesome_!” She’s in wonder.

“Are you stalking me or something?” I say.

“How rude! I was coming to check on Druk, thank you very much. The others say he looks better now.”

“That is what I was telling him.”

“So…” She eyes me up and down. “You have your firebending _and_ a pair of swords?”

“You should tell your brother to not mess with me.” I throw the sheath up to Druk’s saddle again.

Katara steps inside and approaches Druk. He snuggles her once more afore my perplexed stare.

“I don’t know how Sokka was ever afraid of you, Druk,” Katara says. “You are a sweetie-pie!”

_Puaj!_

“Don’t feel so safe around him,” I warn, “He is difficult to handle.”

Druk nearly purrs when she starts tickling him.

“Oh, sure. I can totally see that,” she replies. “But I think I’m okay with it. We have become good friends since we found you.”

“Right,” I let the clicking of the word expand through the tent.

“I came to ask you again about that sparring.”

“I thought your brother forbid you from sparring.”

“Yeah, and Gran-Gran wasn’t thrilled either. I guess I must _really_ want to practice my waterbending to disobey them both.”

“Why are they so dead-set in you not sparring with anyone? Shouldn’t they be proud that you are a bender?”

Katara’s entire face changes when the question leaves my lips, she closes off. It is an odd sight in her, the colorful optimism vanishes leaving her hunched and wounded. Only a small ray of light returns when her hand raises to her throat.

“Can you keep a secret?”

I just nod.

As brief of a gesture that was, Katara turns around to give her back to me. She proceeds to take her parka off by her shoulders, along with her atigi and the rest of her attire underneath it. She stops before undressing completely, until her clothes furrow and hang at her mid back, exposing a fair share of her dark, bare skin.

I probably should be more impressed by the fact she’s standing half-naked from her waist up in front of me, but the only thing I can concentrate in is the massive burn that constitutes almost all of her back. Red against brown; thick, irregular trails of abraded skin creep their way up to her shoulders like the marks of claws, but the wound was unmistakably done by fire.

The image of a fist-shaped fire gust forms before my eyes. Vividly.

It is burning.

It is coming closer.

“What – ” I gulp. Stumble back, escaping from the fire. The heat against my eyelashes – “What happened to you?”

“The Fire Nation raids happened to me,” she says, re-accommodating her clothes. “My mother was killed in one of them when I was little. The firebender that did it burned me when I ran away to get help.”

 _This isn’t happening_ , I think. _This isn’t happening._

I can’t breathe; I can’t see.

 _I didn’t leave, I didn’t allow for this to happen. I didn’t… I don’t belong to that – I’m not_ that _! I didn’t leave! I didn’t run away! I didn’t quit;_ I didn’t _! I didn’t_ leave _! I’m not –_

My father, he…

 _Coward! –_ The fire!

“I…” Dizziness darkens my vision. “I am sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

I am falling.

“Zuko!” A pair of hands catch me by the wrists before the floor comes too close. “Are you okay?”

My eyes find Katara’s blue ones.

Blue, like cool freshwater.

The ground reappears under my feet.


	5. Chapter 四: New memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kind comments and your interest in the fic! Sorry that it took me so long to update. Man, writing in first person POV is tough! 😓

**Zuko**

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I say (exhale.) A dense cloud of breathe comes out of my mouth. “I am fine. Sorry.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Katara’s freezing breathe crashes against my lips. “Maybe it is the hunger the one that’s weakening you.”

“I am fine, Katara,” I repeat, trying to clear up the dark fog that has turned into my mind. “And… I do am really sorry for what happened to you… To your mother… and…”

“It’s a scar, Zuko,” she finishes when I trail off, “you can call it for what it is.”

_I wish it was that easy._

“Right. Sorry.” (I don’t know what I am apologizing for.) “Well…,” I bite my lip, “now we have two more things in common.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“I lost my mother, too.”

“Really?” Her eyes widen. “Oh, no! What happened to her?”

“She… um… she left,” I finish hurriedly. “The Fire Nation, I mean. One day she was just… gone.”

“Oh, Spirits! I’m so, so sorry, Zuko!”

“It is okay.” I sigh.

Katara’s hands are still wrapped around my wrists, she is quick to withdraw them.

“Sorry.”

The sudden loud silence fills the tent.

There is not much for us to do except avoid each other’s eyes and look around to nothing in particular.

Katara’s the first one to break the silence: “Can I ask… and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…,” she looks down, “why did your mother leave without you?”

Raw sincerity turns my voice into a whisper: “I don’t know.” My fingers reach for my scar. “I think she knew then there was something wrong with the Fire Nation…”

Katara’s stare remains pinned to the floor. Her hands flutter at her sides anxiously, as if desperately searching for something to hold on to. With her gaze so down, I can notice the perfect match that is the tone of blue of her parka with the one of her eyes.

“You know, I was serious about the eating,” she determines, finally. “You need to regain your strength. C’mon, it’s dinnertime anyways.”

She takes my hand and pulls me to follow her out.

***

“It is odd to have dinnertime under broad daylight, don’t you think?” I muse, looking up at the lightened up sky.

The others sit in circle around a bonfire – that I put up – while Katara serves everyone their respective bowl of smoked lion-seagull meat accompanied with sea prunes. The perplexed feeling that I felt earlier comes back to me in full force. (How did I _ever_ land in this situation? Having to eat something like _this_?)

Katara laughs. “We’re still on the only-sun months. You’ll get used to it.”

I want to remind her I won’t here enough to ‘get used to it’. My throat closes before I can push the words out.

I get more of that uneasiness that I felt earlier too, but different. This one is longing and stabbing.

The children of the Tribe are thrilled over their break from the ‘strategic training’. (Seriously, it should be illegal to call it like that!) I am somewhat glad Katara’s brother doesn’t have the opportunity to corrupt more young minds, but I would be more comfortable if they didn’t celebrate by getting all over me again!

“Your head is so soft!”

“Why’ you bald?”

“I am not _bald_!” I say, shaking them off. “It is shaved, there is a difference!”

Far from going away, they strengthen their efforts to get touch my head.

“Alright, kids.” Katara comes our way. “Leave him alone. Zuko needs to eat, too.”

Miraculously, the children comply and only giggle in their way to reunite with their mothers.

“Here you go! A fresh plate of lion-seagull!”

Perfect. I went from bad to worse.

I mutter a reluctant _‘thanks’_ and wolf down at the food without tasting it. Katara goes back to the bonfire to finish serving everyone.

Is she the one in charge of everything around here or what? Ever since I woke up, I have seen her sewing, doing laundry, herding the children from one place to the other, now making dinner; while everybody else – even the adults – just follows in tow. She must be exhausted. At least at the Palace there were enough servants for nobody to have to perform four tasks at once.

I make a face at the food. (And there was also better food at the Palace.)

“Whatsa matter, fancy?” Katara’s brother calls out. “The food isn’t spicy enough for you?”

I roll my eyes. “You know, it _is_ rather offensive to imply _all_ things Fire Nation have to do with heat and spice.”

“Oh, no! Did I hurt your feelings?”

I heat up my fist.

“Leave him alone, Sokka!” Katara cuts in, frowning at him. “Or else _you’ll_ be the one without dinner today.”

“You can’t do that! Gran-Gran!”

“Your sister is right, Sokka,” their grandmother decides, “No matter what, one should always keep their manners during dinnertime.”

I smirk when his face falls.

“What the hell are you smiling for?” he barks my way.

Now I frown. (I swear, I can’t _stand_ this guy!)

“I told you to leave him alone,” Katara says, coming to seat on the snow next to me with her own bowl of food. “You can go serve your dinner by yourself now.”

For how close we are sitting, it is hard to tell if he is glaring at her or me, but it soon doesn’t matter when he stands and stomps up to the bonfire.

“He’s an idiot,” Katara mutters.

“Agreed,” I say.

Before my shocked stare, Katara proceeds to eat her food avidly, stuffing big pieces of meat into her mouth. If it wasn’t because I witnessed her eating it, I would say the food disappeared into thin air.

“You… eat quite a lot for being a girl,” I observe.

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Uh… Thank you?” She settles her bowl down. “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”

I feel nausea just by looking at the dark, greasy cuts on my bowl. “I… um…”

“Maybe Katara could feed them to you,” her brother cuts in again, “Ain’t I right, lovebirds?”

A water tentacle slaps him on the face; he falls back on the snow. The food follows, it falls and spills over his head.

“That will teach him to not butt in where he’s not called,” Katara declares, re-gloving her hand.

I laugh. “Hahaha! Hahaha!”

“Whoa!” She turns to me, awestruck. “You laughed!”

I snap my mouth close and turn away. “No, I didn’t.”

Her smirk is _audible_ in her voice, “You know, you’re not so much of a jerk after a while.”

“You say that because you didn’t know me before,” I mutter.

“How were you before then?”

 _Don’t ask that!_ I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“I… um… I let some people take advantage of me, and didn’t stop them from doing bad things when I should have.”

 _And then I ran away like a coward._ Father was right after all.

He still is, I am still planning on running away from all of it. Fleeing even this place – a hideaway I am starting to consider myself lucky that I found, where no one knows me and no one can locate me – driving Druk to Agni-knows-where. But what else am I supposed to do?

_What you should have done in the first place._

I pinch my nose harder; it is not that easy.

If what I am thinking is right – and I pray to Spirits it isn’t, because it doesn’t make sense _at all_ – then this isn’t my time to make things right. I lost that chance.

“Everything alright?” I turn to Katara’s voice. “You are looking anxious again.”

“I am _always_ anxious.”

“I’m starting to learn that,” she agrees. “But would it help you to talk a little about it? Maybe I can help.”

What is it with _helping_ that she is so obsessed with it? She looks like a little girl who just received a new doll only for mentioning it. It is curious though, with her smiling like that – with hopeful, wide open eyes – I can appreciate how properly her quite strange facial features fit with each other, giving her a whole new kind of allure.

Like, it is different, but also appealing. Kind of overwhelming, actually.

“Zuko?”

I blink. “Sorry, sorry,” I say. “I was distracted.”

Katara hums, unconvinced. “Well, do you want to talk about what’s troubling you?”

“It is nothing, Katara. Really.”

“I get that maybe it’s uncomfortable for you to be out of the Fire Nation,” she reassures. “It’s difficult for us to have a Fire Nation guy in here, too; but we’re trying to adapt, okay? I’ve always tried to not hate on anyone, not even _all_ of the Fire Nation. Having you here is… a good compensation for keeping hope alive.”

My gaze drops. “You should hate _all_ of the Fire Nation.”

Katara’s perplexed. “Why’d do you say that?”

I don’t answer.

Now she is _horrified_.

Her hand reaches for her throat again. “I didn’t tell you what happened to me for your pity, Zuko.”

Her words trigger an instinctive reaction. I lift my eyes to her and answer quickly, unnerved: “No, no, it is not pity! I just… it is difficult to learn about the things my country has done.”

“I understand,” she says.

 _No, you don’t understand!_ I want to scream.

 _You shouldn’t understand!_ _Stop being so stupidly nice and kind to me!_

“Sometimes I overcome things thinking the Fire Nation hasn’t taken everything away from me,” her hand strokes her throat – the fur covering it.

“Do you see this necklace?” She pulls the fuzzy neck of her parka down (the frozen breathe snows from it) taking out a bluish gray round pendant with a Water Tribe inscription attached to a black leather choker.

“This was my mother’s,” she explains. “It is the only thing I’ve left from her after her death. But it’s still here. It’s like a part of her was still here with me, too; something that the Fire Nation can’t take away from me.”

Her palm cups the pendant, fingers curling around it, as though she was trying to hug it.

I set the bowl of food down, and clasp my hands tightly together to stop a trembling that I can already feel coming.

It is cold. _I_ feel cold.

“I am sorry again for what happened to your mother,” I whisper, watching my breathe flow in front of me.

“Thanks.”

The loud silence wraps around us again, enclosing us together but away from the rest of the villagers.

The laughs and the chatting become perceptible but distant, yet not distant enough for them not to surge anger from within me.

Not anger; resentment.

Resentment at the kids for laughing and running around. Resentment at Katara’s brother with his bad jokes about meat and food. Even at the fucking snow! _All_ of them can belong to the carefreeness and happy obliviousness that is this entire Tribe! I don’t belong here!

_I don’t belong anywhere anymore._

“I wish things were like when the Avatar was alive,” Katara mutters absently.

I almost hit myself on my own face.

“The Avatar.” I look away. “Right.”

“You think he was reborn?” she presses on. “Or her, I mean. It could be a girl. A hundred years is a lot of time for someone to not be reborn.”

I cringe. “You keep saying a hundred years… Katara, is there anything around here from when the war started? Anything at all? I… I think I need to see something.”

“Mmmmm… Well, there’s the old shipwreck from when Gran-Gran was little.”

“Shipwreck?”

“A Fire Navy ship, from the first raids in the Tribe.”

“Can I see it? Where is it?”

“In a snow valley in the west,” she says. “But Zuko, it is forbidden to go there.”

“I already told you, I need to check on something.”

“You said you needed to see something.”

“What is the difference?”

“When you need to see something it’s because you’re going to look at it for the first time. When you need to check on something is because you’re going to double-check.”

I blink, dumbfounded.

Then I smack my forehead. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that the way you freak out every time someone says the words _‘hundred’_ or _‘year’_ is kinda creepy,” she states matter-of-factly, looking at me with a strange expression on her face. “And as much as I would like to help you figure out whatever it is that you need to figure out, going near that ship is _still_ forbidden.”

“Katara, I just need you tell me where it is, I can go alone. If you tell me, I won’t ask you for anything ever again.”

“I don’t want you to get into trouble! To get us _both_ into trouble.”

“I won’t tell anyone that you told me!”

“Zuko, _‘no’_ means _no_. Sure you know to listen when someone warns you.”

***

“C’mon, Druk! Why don’t you want to fly?”

He grunts, twisting himself even tighter and curling his head away from me.

“What do you mean _‘you are tired’_? It is not even night yet! _See?_ ” I make a grand gesture out of pointing to the sunny sky.

He doesn’t even look up at me.

“Fine! I will find the shipwreck by myself! But know that if I die frozen –” I point emphatically at him “– it will be _your_ fault!”

I stomp away digging my boots into the snow with heavy steps.

_Stupid dragon! I should have known he wouldn’t help me when I practically had to drag him out of his tent!_

_Stupid sun that doesn’t give me a proper cover despite the rest of the Tribe already asleep!_

Nothing to worry about, I have experience sneaking out. Now I just have to find out how far into the west that ship is.

“What are you doing up?”

_Ah!_

“How come you always know where the hell I am?” I shriek at Katara.

She rubs her eyes, unbothered. “Zuko, you were stomping your feet into layers and layers of snow right in front of _my_ tent,” she points out. “It wasn’t difficult to guess who could be angry enough to walk like that at bedtime.”

“Oh,” I say. _Well, what does she expect from me? It’s difficult to sneak out in dense snow!_ “Sorry.”

“Where are you going?” She wipes the sleepiness from her face with the palm of her hands.

“Nowhere.”

“Mmm-hmmmm,” her arms drop at her sides just as her head raises to direct me an unimpressed look. “You really are _that_ desperate to go see that ship?”

“ _Yes_ ,” I admit.

“Fine, then I’ll take you.”

My eyes widen. “Really?”

“Only if you promise to take me to the North Pole so I can learn waterbending,” she declares.

_Of course she would ask that._

I sigh. “Okay, I promise.”

“You really do?”

“Yes.”

“You pinky-swear?”

“What?”

“It goes like this.”

Katara pulls one arm out of the fur covers coating her and takes mine. She peels my glove off, the iciness of the wind mixed with the heat of her skin makes the tiny hairs of my entire arm to stand up.

She closes my fist, leaving only my pinky finger extended. Then, she tangles her own pinky finger with mine.

“There you go,” she announces, releasing me. “Now you’re obliged to make good on your promise.”

I don’t have time to be weirded out by customs like that, so I just put my glove back on and mumble “Whatever.”

Katara asks me to wait for her to put on her parka and coats, and then she takes me walking to the vast horizon into the west.

“How long, exactly, will it take to get to the ship?”

She hums meditatively. “Around a day by foot.”

I choke. “ _What?_ We can’t spend an entire day walking!”

“I said _‘by foot’_ , Zuko.” She smirks at me, mischievously and knowingly.

***

“So, we are going to slide over some otter-penguins till we reach the ship?” I watch some of said otter penguins flounder over the ice. “Please tell me this isn’t an official means of transportation.”

Katara smiles. “No,” she concedes, “but it is fast. And fun.”

I sigh. “Okay. How do we catch the penguins though?”

Katara goes to the shoreline. Taking off her glove once more, she commands a water orb to raise from the water – with a fish inside it.

I just observe as she – with more than some difficulty and twisting herself to follow the globe’s direction instead of the latter following hers – directs the bubble to float in the air until it reaches the penguins’ place, and me. (Her ‘mastering’ of her own element appalls me. No wonders why she needs a teacher.)

The bubble burst, releasing the fish that _I_ have to catch with _my_ own hands.

The penguins tackle me to the ground as soon as I catch it.

Katara laughs. “Like that.”

***

Katara soars through the air before landing on a slope and continuing to slide downward.

“Isn’t this the most fun, Zuko?”

I put a whole lot of effort into not frowning too hard as the wind hits me on the face while we slide. “Whatever.”

I am just glad this has proven to be fast.

And I am also glad nobody from the Fire Nation is here to see me. I already humiliated myself enough the last time I was there.

Gods, if my brother Azulon was here, he would _never_ shut up about this! Probably bribing the royal servants to mock me alongside him! The spoiled jerk!

The speed we take over the ice compresses it into snow; it tickles against my face. Granted that maybe sliding some penguins is not the most outrageous thing to do, but still! I just don’t do stuff like this!

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” Katara giggles, happily.

It is funny that she says so, because she looks _exactly_ like a little kid right now. I tell her so: “You mean you aren’t _still_ a kid?”

If my subtle hint offended her, she doesn’t show, but arches an eyebrow at me instead. Challenging and arrogant.

Next thing I know, she drives her penguin skating from side to side through the ice for the friction to create a wave of icy cold snow that she shoots directly to my face. I can hear her laughter as she takes the lead ahead of me.

_Oh, no. She didn’t._

With a small impulse, I command my penguin to slide faster and catch up with the little brat. As soon as she notices me close on her tails, she drives faster, turning over an ice tunnel. I follow. The more I try to catch up to beat her at her own game, the more she slithers, blocking my way.

_Two can play that game._

Letting go of the penguin’s fins, a small blazing propulsion from my fire turns things to my favor. That’s all it takes to surf up over the ceiling.

The tunnel levels out on an open plain of ice. I jump off from the penguin.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Katara gets off her own penguin, stepping towards me with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. “You can’t use your bending on a penguin sledding race!”

I shrug. “You never settled any rules.”

She frowns harder.

Yet, her stance diminishes slowly, morphing into a pleased grin. “Well, at least I got you to have some fun.”

I splutter. “Wha… _What?_ Of course I didn’t do it for fun.”

“Maybe not. But you _were_ having fun.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you – ”

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” I cut her off. “Where is that ship that you told me about?”

Instead of answering, she points to somewhere over my shoulder.

Truly, there is a Fire Navy ship taking over the entire landscape, elevated and held in place by a large bulge of ice with the bow pointing towards the sky.

My stomach drops, and I think so it does the blood in my body.

Oddly enough, the sight of the rusty steel and terracotta copper are the most familiar thing I have encountered since I woke up and found Katara next to me, but it is ominously unwelcome.

The ship is dark and shadowy, worn out by the decades and nature. It emanates a bitter feeling, like it had savagely fought against everything let it be kindness or inclemency. Like a rabid living beast, and these ruins were the product of what it had become. It almost seems as if it was taunting me, mocking my worst fears come true.

It is reminding me of the darkness I set free, the one that I didn’t stop.

“This is a very _bad_ memory for my Tribe,” Katara’s voice is somber next to me.

I step closer.

“Zuko, stop! We are not supposed to get in there!”

I increase my speed to get to it faster. “I already told you I need to check on something.”

I am not surprised that Katara follows me. I climb up the ice holding the boat and help her get up as well, we both crawl through a hole in the hull of the ship until we reach the inside. No surprises it is even more corroded than the outside, the walls clearly haven’t been undusted in ages, the humidity bred rust and fungus all over them, and there are hamster-rats still eating away the metal.

“Ew.” Katara’s nose crinkles in disgust.

I pass a hand over the walls, rubbing the dust between my fingers.

Unexpectedly, instead of being overwhelmed with emotion, I am overwhelmed with blankness and restraint. The reactions I envisaged to feel are there, but contained. Where; I don’t know. I don’t actually know anything. I don’t process anything as I walk across the corridors, acquaintance drives me before I can reflect on my steps.

“It’s clear this ship is a hundred years old, huh?” Katara says. “Look at the dust.”

“It is not,” I say. “A hundred years ago we didn’t have this machinery,” I inspect some of the cables showing through holes in the floor. “The Fire Nation used to employ steam, and only steam, in its apparatus a hundred years ago.”

The knowledge and security in my voice crushes the silence in the room.

“Zuko,” Katara starts, “how long were you in that iceberg?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m starting to think it could a hundred years.”

I awaken from my numbness. “Me too.”

***

“This doesn’t makes any sense!” I rant, pacing around. I turn to Katara. “Do I _look_ a hundred-eighteen years old to you?”

“Well…”

“Don’t answer that!”

“Think about it!” she pushes. “That’s the reason why you know so little about the War. The War is a century old. You don't know about it because, somehow, you were in the iceberg the whole time! It's the only explanation.”

“This isn’t happening to me.”

“I’m so sorry, Zuko. Maybe there’s a bright side to all of this.”

“Like what?”

“You have _absolutely_ nothing to do with everything the Fire Nation has done for the past century.”

I crash my head against the wall. “Somehow, I doubt it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Help me inspect the rest of the rooms, maybe I can get a clue about what year exactly this ship was made.”

“Are you crazy?” she shrieks. “This place could be booby-trapped!”

“Come on! I need to put the century-old pieces together!”

I run down the corridor with Katara close on my trail. Embarrassment settles over me when trip over a thin rope over the floor.

The sound of metal clashing makes my back stiffen.

Katara and I race to the source of the sound, only to find the entrances sealed with iron bars reinforced with pins and the locks secured with tacks.

“What was it that you were saying about booby-traps?”

“It’s a little late for asking, don’t you think?”

The gears and engines of the shipwreck suddenly power up, beginning to function. The entire boat leans forward, swinging over the ice.

“Ah!” Katara and I fall back on the floor as havoc rises inside the ship.

Alarms clang and the dull sound of metal crashing against metal makes my head throb. I try melting the bars under my grasp, but they resist. Then I stand up and throw a fire shot at them, but it just crashes and flows across their spacing into the air.

“They are fire proof!” I observe.

“How are we gonna escape then?”

The ship keeps shifting erratically; I can hear the ice succumbing under the commotion, shattering and crumbling down like a very, very violent cascade. With each piece of it gone, the ship sinks deeper.

It is only a matter of time before it breaks to the water underneath the ice.

And then sinks completely because there is no chance this thing can float in the condition it is!

Katara attempts to regain her balance, holding on to the wall, but crashes against a control panel that bombs due to the impact.

“Katara, watch out!”

I yank her away to the opposite wall, shielding her with my body from the explosion the hit creates. We both cough heavily for the smoke and the smell of oil and chemicals.

“We have to get out of here!” I say.

I take a sharp slice of metal from the floor and use it to force the locks open. (This is the part when I am thankful for accompanying Azulon to spy on our father’s meetings, I learned lock-picking.)

The metallic wedge cuts my palms but I manage to open the gate. Taking Katara’s hand with my non-bleeding one, I pull her out.

“Hold on tight!” I command her.

She puts her arms around my neck when I grab her close by her waist and jump off the border of the ship. We skate down the ice until reaching the floor. A few flares shot from the ship to the sky, tinting it bright red.

“We have to go tell the Tribe.”

***

The villagers are all awake when we get back. All of them are staring concerned and wondering to the red spots coloring the clouds.

The children are the first to receive me and Katara. “Yay! Katara and Zuko are back!”

They gather around us, asking excited questions about where did we go; for once, I am not all too annoyed by their presence. But the adults are furious and offended by mine.

“I _knew_ it!” Katara’s brother proclaims stepping ahead, leading the crowd of enraged stares. He points accusingly at me. “ _You_ signaled the Fire Navy with that flare! You're leading them straight to us, aren't you?”

Katara puts herself between him and me. “I was with Zuko and he didn't do anything! It was an accident!”

“The ship in the west was booby-trapped,” I explain.

Katara’s grandmother is taken aback. “Katara, you shouldn't have gone on that ship! Now we could _all_ be in danger!”

I put a hand on Katara’s shoulder. “Don’t blame Katara. I brought her there. It was my fault.”

“ _Aha!_ ” Her brother yanks her away from me. “Don’t touch my sister, you traitor!” He pushes the children away too. “Warriors, away from the enemy. The foreigner is banished from our village.”

Katara escapes from behind his back, approaching me just enough to serve as a shield between her brother and me. “Sokka, you’re making a mistake!”

“No!” he emphasizes, “I’m keeping my promise to Dad. I’m protecting _you_ from threats like _him_!”

“Zuko is _not_ our enemy!”

Ignoring her, her brother barks at me. “Get out of our village! _Now!_ ”

Katara turns to their grandmother, restless and with pleading eyes. “Gran-Gran, don’t let Sokka do this!”

“Katara, you knew going on that ship was forbidden. Sokka is right, I think it is best if the firebender leaves.”

“Fine! Then I’m banished too!” She spins to me, her eyes boiling seas of anger.

She drags me away by my hand. “Let’s go find Druk, Zuko! We are leaving!”

“Where do you think _you're_ going?” her brother demands.

“To find a waterbender!” she retorts without even looking at him. “Zuko is taking me to the North Pole!”

I bite my lip. “Katara, I did not mean for you to…”

She stops in her tracks only to glare at me. “You promised!”

“Katara!” her brother calls out. “Would you really choose him over your tribe? Your own family?”

Katara’s anger does not vanish just for looking at him, the villagers and the children; but it mixes with longing and sadness in equal measures, only surpassed by hurt.

I glide my hand out of her grip. “Katara, I do not want to come between you and your family.”

A blink cuts through her staring, as though I woke her up from a dream. Her eyes are troubled when she looks at me, but not nearly as pained as when she looks at her brother and tribe.

“Wait, so… you are leaving the South Pole?” she questions. “This is goodbye?”

“I appreciate you helping me sort some things out.” I bow to her. “Thank you.”

“Where will you go?”

“I already told you, I will find out along the way.” I turn my head. “I should go gather my things and take Druk.”

I start walking away. I should have known this would be how my stay here would end.

Katara’s brother doesn’t misses the opportunity to mock me one last time. “Yeah, go take your overgrown reptile, fire boy!”

A loud wail resounds. One of the Tribe’s young girls halts my steps holding me back by my hand. Her face is a mess of tears. “Zuko, don’t go! I’ll miss you!”

Katara is the one to come pick her up. Her own eyes are big, shiny and glassy.

“Goodbye,” I say.

***

“Come on, Druk! Help me out on this! I already had enough trouble on this day of hell!”

He _still_ refuses to fly! He didn’t even flew for us to get us out of the Southern Water Tribe, he actually made us both _walk_! And now he simply doesn’t want to do anything but curl into himself and try get back to the Tribe!

I just have had it with him! “What is _wrong_ with you today?”

He cries and stands to get back in the direction we just came. I block his way.

“Look, I know you really liked her, but…”

He eyes me curiously. Half inquisitively, half knowingly.

“What?” Bewildering realization hits me. “You think _I_ liked her, too?”

He grunts, affirmatively.

I turn away. “You are _insane_.”

A strange noise comes from the waters into the distance.

Mounting Druk, I jump to a big ice chunk with a view to the sea. The first thing I catch glance of is an unmistakable Fire Nation ship – a much different one than the ones I know, but with the country’s distinctive emblem – sailing towards an all too familiar location.

“Oh, no!”


	6. Chapter 五: New enemies

**Sokka**

Katara’s being a dramatic brat over losing her boyfriend! (Like we don’t have worse things to worry about!)

Whatever! Our dad didn’t make me promise to keep her feelings unhurt, (or to play matchmaker.)

He made me promise that I would keep her and my Tribe safe, and that’s _exactly_ what I’m doing! (No matter how much of an ungrateful, firebender-chasing pain Katara can be.) I apply my ceremonial war paint carefully under my eyes, I never thought there would be a day when I had to put it on with the rest of the tribesmen gone, but here we are. And I’m not backing down.

The candle in my tent announces the change of winds, it means a large ship has just arrived.

Stepping outside, I ready myself to break some Fire Nation necks!

**Zuko**

Druk and I get to the village fairly easy. (This time the non-flying was a strategic advantage. We don’t need whoever is coming to the Tribe to notice us here.)

I jump off of Druk’s saddle and order him to hide on the snow hills while I go warn the rest.

There isn’t enough time for me to even come close. There’s a loud, cracking noise; the ground begins to quake.

More loud cracking ensues, it’s not difficult to guess the ship must be breaking through the land. The tremor only slightly quietens the villager’s screams and cries but they are still there, wild and fearful. The all-smiley children are no longer laughing but sobbing.

The ground begins to split.

I can’t help but gasp when I see the humungous bow of the ship appearing through the fog and frosty wind. It surpasses the entire village, the entire piece of land where it’s settled.

“Sokka!”

I recognize Katara’s voice, but she can’t warn him fast enough before the ship breaks the ice wall shielding the village. Her brother – who was moronically standing over it – falls and crashes face to the ground.

I hiss. (His ego must be the one that suffered the most damage.)

The commotion dies down bit by bit when the ship comes to a halt after incrusting itself in the Southern Water Tribe.

I hide behind a hill, watching.

The bow of the ship opens and rasps forward in a burst of steam, forming a walkway. Three figures first appear cloaked in the mist. When the vapor dissipates, a middle-aged man emerges from it, with the Fire Nation’s typical top-knot and wearing what I suppose it’s the improved version of the Fire Nation’s military uniform. It’s hard to discern much of his face from where I’m standing – and with his ridiculous sideburns masking all of his profile – but his eyes are vicious and glistening with some kind of hunger as he looks at the villagers.

He descends from the ship accompanied by two guards, followed by some others, not enough for them to be afloat but enough to overpower the Tribe’s defenses.

And speaking about said _“defenses”_ , Katara’s brother stands up and lets out a battle cry and charges at the men. The one leading the guards merely kicks the club to his left and, without even resting his leg on the ground, kicks the guy over to his right, sending him into the snow where his head becomes trapped.

I grimace. They are beating his honor more than anything. And as much as I don’t like him, I _surely_ can empathize with _that_.

“I don’t think so, kid,” the Fire Nation’s – soldier? Commander? – taunts.

“Greetings, villagers!” He addresses the rest of the Tribe brightly, beaming. His voice and his expression remind to the one of a deceitful assassin ready to strike. “Sorry to interrupt your daily schedule today, we are on a mere recognition mission. See, around three days ago we caught a glance of this large ray of light not far from here, and when we distinguished a clear Fire Nation flare shot from your location today, we knew you were worth our interest.”

The villagers exchange multiple frightened looks with each other. Katara is the one to take the word, stepping in front of the others and covering them – especially her grandmother – from the man’s sight.

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says. “We haven’t seen any light _or_ flares.”

The man smiles at her, (it _in fact_ resembles the edge of a crooked knife.) “Lying to me won’t help you, young lady.”

“I’m not lying to you,” Katara assures, standing with firmness.

The man approaches her, looming over her. “What are you hiding?”

Katara does not recoil, she glares at him instead. “ _Nothing._ ” Her teeth grit.

“Katara…,” her grandmother warns.

“ _Katara_ ,” the man muses as if _tasting_ the name. It makes a disgusting shiver run down my spine. “An innocent name for an innocent girl.”

It is then when her brother frees himself. The club rests discarded on the snow. He takes it for charging at the man once more with another battle cry.

I just face-palm myself. (An important part of sneak attacks is to be _silent_ at the time!)

Far from being caught with his guard down, the Fire Nation man ducks the guy’s wide swing and throws him forward.

He lands on his back on the snow but is quickly forced to abandon his spot when the man fires a blast at him. He takes out his boomerang and tosses it. The man barely avoids the hit, but the boomerang spins away until it vanishes from the sight. The Fire Nation man looks at him with contained savage anger.

One of the village boys throws a spear. “Show no fear!”

Katara’s brother handily catches the spear and charges at the man once more. The moment would be more touching and triumphant if the man didn’t break the spear into pieces with his mere forearms.

Once it’s in ruins, he pulls the weapon out of the hands of the Water Tribe “ _warrior”_ and pokes him in the head with the dull end. That’s enough for pushing him down a third time.

The man snaps the spear in two and lets the pieces fall to the ground before the entire Tribe’s terrified eyes.

The boomerang returns just in time for catching the man without notice, it hits him hard in the back of his head. Katara’s brother catches the weapon and celebrates it.

He silences once the man recovers and aims two fire daggers from his hands to him.

Katara runs and shields her brother. “Wait!” she pleas. “Don’t hurt him!”

The man smiles at her yet again, but with the fire daggers still blazing. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Katara is shaking lightly, enough for it to be attributed to the cold instead of the fear she must be hiding. “He didn’t mean to do that. And we aren’t hiding anything from you. Look around, we don’t even have _space_ to hide anything.”

“We should confirm that,” the man agrees, finally discarding the daggers. He commands his officers over his shoulder, “Register everything! Tear this whole place down if necessary!”

Katara gasps. “You can’t do that!” she protests. “You’ll destroy our village!”

“If you aren’t hiding anything, there’s no reason to fear,” the man recollects.

“I’m not afraid of you!” Katara – brave, reckless girl that she is – declares, stepping confrontationally towards him. “That’s _exactly_ why I’m telling you: it’s not fair that you invade our homes when we have already told you we aren’t hiding anything!”

The man smirks. The hunger I saw earlier in his eyes reappears, but multiplied, almost salivating. It gives me nausea.

“Well…” he stretches, his tone low and slow. His hand reaches towards her, accommodating a loose strand of her dark hair behind her ear with delicacy. “Maybe _we_ could agree to a more… _diplomatic_ arrangement.”

I launch a fire shot to cross between the pig’s face and Katara’s, pushing them apart. He shrieks out of surprise and reels back.

Katara also startles and stumbles backward. I run and skate over the snow catching her before she can hit the ground.

**Katara**

I blink. “Zuko?”

“Is everybody alright?” He asks in the Tribe’s general direction.

“Sokka!” I say.

I take myself off from Zuko’s hold and run to him behind our backs. His is still against the snow. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” _Oh, no. He’s moody._

I help him brush off the snow from his hair and clothes, and wash away the remnants of his war paint.

“And hi, Zuko,” he greets him next, (surprising _me_ more than anyone.) “Thanks for coming.”

“Don’t even mention it,” Zuko concedes.

The kids cheer. “Zuko’s back! Zuko’s back!”

Not everything is smiles and victory, though. The Fire Nation hog that I would _really_ like to stab with an entire iceberg right here and now pushes the rest of the soldiers away when they come to assist him, snarling in Zuko’s direction.

“What the heck do you think you’re doing, _boy_?” he spits the last word as an insult.

Zuko frowns in response. “Keeping you from using an authority you don’t own over innocent people.”

“Do you even _have_ any idea what you’re doing?” the brute demands. “What are you doing in here anyways? Freezing yourself with savages instead of supporting your nation?”

“I don’t have to support _savages_ like _you_.” Zuko takes his fighting stance. “Leave. _Now._ ”

“Just who do you think you are?”

Zuko glares at him.

Slowly – like an ice serpent changing its skin – the anger fades from the man’s face. It is replaced with astonished recognition. “Wait… I know you.”

“You do?” Zuko asks, unimpressed.

“You’re the ancient Fire Nation prince. Prince Zuko.”

My eyes widen. “Zuko?” I say.

“ _Prince?_ ” Sokka is awestruck.

Zuko doesn’t turn to us, but continues holding the man’s stare with that same slightly annoyed indifference. “Great, you already proved yourself knowledgeable in history. Now, who are _you_ , Mister Low-Class-Soldier? Don’t you know you should be _kneeling_ before me?”

The man’s sneer returns and deepens. “I’m commander Zhao,” he grinds out. “The most acclaimed warrior in the Fire Nation.”

Zuko is still not impressed. “I see standards have dropped in my absence.”

I have to cover my mouth to not giggle out loud.

The Fire Nation idiot – Zhao, I guess – glares at Zuko looking like some kind of old, bald, angry crocodile bear.

“And _you_ are one to talk about standards?” he smiles so cruelly I almost shiver. “Don’t think I don’t know your story, _banished prince_. Your father, Fire Lord Sozin, didn’t want you to weaken his nation. Your younger brother, Azulon, took your place as the next one in the line to the throne like you never even _existed_. You’re the most shameful prince – _and_ Avatar – that the world has ever witnessed.”

I gasp. “ _Avatar?_ ”

Sokka is even _more_ shocked. “ _No. Way._ ”

“Oh, my,” Zhao feigns surprise. “Don’t tell me you didn’t tell your little friends about your backstory.”

I can’t see Zuko’s expression, his back is turned to us.

Suddenly, he aims at Zhao without a second thought, pirouetting in the air for launching an attack to his head. Zhao barely skips the hit and aims two shots at Zuko’s sides.

More fluent in his moves, Zuko skips them with further easiness and lands perfectly on his feet behind Zhao’s back. His eyes are raw and fired up with bleeding fury. His new attack hits Zhao square in the back and tosses him forward.

Despite the pained grunt that comes from his throat, Zhao is unharmed enough because of his armor protecting him. ( _Shit!_ )

He shoots a big blast at Zuko, but Zuko is quick to effortlessly block it with just one forearm. My jaw drops at such display of power.

“Don’t just stand in there!” Zhao shouts at his men. “Go for him!”

It looks like the rest of the soldiers were just as astonished as me.

Shaking off the daze, they go for Zuko in a circling herd. He ducks and slides between them, escaping, while they all crash against each other.

“What a great display of talent, Prince Zuko,” Zhao observes still with that cruel smile. “Have you been practicing for the past hundred years after embarrassing your father with your weakness?”

Zuko roars. “ _Shut the hell up!_ ”

Zhao skips his blazing kick and then his other shot. “And yet you play the tough guy so well.”

“I told you to shut up, you freak!” Zuko goes for a cutting blow.

Zhao blocks it. “ _I_ am the freak?” He launches himself to Zuko with both his fists on literal fire. “I’m not the one with a scar on my face to mark my own dishonor!”

Going for a more physical approach, Zuko restrains him by his arms, and then kicks him straight in the chest, launching him deep into the snow.

It was the final push to throw Zhao over his limit.

Growling, he throws multiple slicing blazes towards Zuko, as if he was trying to cut him into pieces right on the spot. As much as Zuko is able to miss them, they still brush dangerously close to him. He pirouettes back getting away from them. Zhao stands up and follows, shooting more attacks in his every direction. Some of them which almost ( _almost_ ) hit my tribespeople.

Zuko halts.

“Wait!” he demands, raising his hands in surrender. “Listen… if _I_ give myself in – if I let you take me back to the Fire Nation as your prisoner – then you will promise to leave this village alone?”

I screech: “ _No!_ ”

Zhao seems just _a little_ less displeased than myself.

“You’re _really_ willing to give yourself in to protect these… _creatures_?” he questions, his face in disgust.

(I mean, his face is naturally disgusting but… now it is disgustingly in disgust.)

(And I would like to claw his eyes out to show him how much of a _“creature”_ I am!)

“Yes,” Zuko emphasizes.

Zhao purely arches an eyebrow before finishing with a faint shrug. “Fine. I agree.”

Zuko narrows his eyes warily. “You promise?”

Zhao nods. “I promise.”

Zuko looks down, presenting his defeat. “Fine.”

“ _No!_ ” I launch myself forward. The Fire Nation soldiers hold me back. “Zuko, don’t do this!”

“I’ll be alright, Katara,” he says.

Zhao laughs darkly. “Sure you will.”

Zuko allows the rest of the soldiers to apprehend him with cuffs on his hands. (More than cuffs, they are some of cases enclosing all of his hands, linked by a thick, shiny chain.) They kick his kneecaps for forcing him to kneel.

It’s like they were shattering an ancient crystal relic to pieces right in front of my eyes.

Zhao escalates the ship’s walkway, his metallic steps resound around us. It’s almost offensive how he so carelessly disregards Zuko and his men. “Head a course for the Fire Nation,” he commands. “The Prince is going home.”

While he’s still on the ground, the soldiers tug Zuko by the cuffs dragging him in over the snow and the metal. “Druk might find his way back here soon,” Zuko tells me. “He’s been thrilled to see you again.”

Tears I could feel weighing in my eyes spill down my face. They’re hot, as though boiling. Burning my skin. I can’t _breathe_. I have never felt powerless, not even with so little control over my bending. Not even with my family shattered and apart. But now… now I _do_ feel powerless.

The walkway retreats. The gates close. Zuko’s swallowed into the dark piece by piece. 

**Zuko**

The soldiers haul me through the ship, over the steel floors and shadowy, impenetrable corridors. (It’s almost ironic how a _Fire_ Nation ship can be so dark on the inside.)

I don’t struggle to break free, but the stretch of my arms is painful. So is the soreness on my wrists. It only worsens when I try to pull my arms down. (Spirits, this is _humiliating_!)

They take me to the stern, where Zhao is looking back at the Southern Water Tribe, depositing me to my knees once again. (Pain and humiliation. Nothing I’m not used to.)

Zhao’s back is confidently turned in the opposite way to me.

“I’m sorry to not direct you straight to your quarters, Prince Zuko.” He can tell I am behind him without looking. There’s more of his revolting smile on his voice. “But here’s a view that you won’t want to miss.”

More soldiers appear.

My eyes grow when I see them pushing a freaking _cannon_ , of _all_ things!

They set it up, aligning and aiming it at the Tribe.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shout.

His answer is _amused_ : “Just a little pyrotechnics show.”

I roar, almost pained, for the stretch of my throat and my hands about to burst inside the cuffs. “ _We had a deal!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😏


	7. Chapter 六: Only darkness and half-truths

**Zuko**

The floor of the ship is freezing and hurtful, it bites at my knees the more I struggle to get out of the guards’ and the cuffs’ grasp. The men push me pinned to the floor by my shoulders (for it to give the impression I’m kneeling before Zhao, of _all_ people.)

“ _We had a deal!_ ” I repeat, twisting and contorting in my place, trying to throw the guards off.

Zhao, personally, stands to charge the weapon. “I know. I lied.”

 _And this guy calls_ me _dishonorable?_ I grind my teeth.

His soldiers keep coming at me in an avalanche while he settles himself in the line of the ammunitions.

“ _Let me go!_ ” My demand comes out distorted by my savage screech of a voice. “ _If you have a problem with me, then fight me like a man!_ ”

He snorts, lighting up his fist. “You talk a lot for a reckless teenager.”

The fire ball that surrounds his fist is the exact same size as a cannon ball.

In the distance, the Water Tribe is still in line of sight – enough for me to see the tents raised from here – but sufficiently distant for such a blow to not damage Zhao’s precious ship. _That jerk!_

I heat up my hands under the firebender-proof handcuffs. (The stinging of the fire peeling off the skin of my forearms hurts some more.) I hiss.

_Come on, come on, come on!_

The cuffs bolts deform under the heat, the cases disarm themselves.

I throw myself whirling backwards in the air. With my hands no longer chained behind my back, but at my front I can shoot a fair amount of blasts at each of Zhao’s men, sending them away. (My hands are still chained, though.)

 _This_ finally calls out his attention.

I don’t wait for him to turn around to charge at him. Instead of attacking him with fire, I throw a swing at his head with my two fists. (I _want_ to hurt him. Close. Personal.)

He ducks, and blocks my kicks before I can throw him off balance. (Fortunately, our fight drives him away from the cannon.)

“All troops to the stern! _Now!_ ”

A few soldiers are faster than the others to obey his call. I’m seeing red; I combat them singlehandedly, growling at the discomfort of attacking with my hands restrained and the metal hitting and brushing against the open wounds of my own burns. 

I kick, spin, choke some of the men with the chain of my disarmed handcuffs, then I throw them off the board. More keep coming at me. (It seems like Zhao even called the concierge for this!)

_Coward. That’s what a real coward does._

Fighting off his subordinates, I almost don’t notice Zhao returning for the cannon. I make one of his soldiers to twirl and throw the man at him, pushing both away from the weapon.

The ship fills itself with grunts, groans and cries of pain. Some screams from the men falling to the water like flies.

Now they’re taking out their weapons. _Good._

I go for one holding a sable. Take his arm, twist it – both to incapacitate its holder and for directing the blade my way. Improperly sharpened as it is, it’s enough to cut off my chains.

I’m free.

It’s easier to fight a party of soldiers before hurling them towards the cannon, the water splashes louder when the damn thing finally falls.

I run to the lateral border. Whistle. “Druk!”

(Great that he decides to fly _now_ ); the beating of wings reveals his arrival even from the distance.

The soldiers freak. “ _Ah!_ A dragon!”

“Please don’t tell me dragons are _truly_ extinct,” I ask to nobody in particular.

Zhao comes at me himself. (It’s hard to tell at whom he’s the more irritated, if at me or at the incompetence of his own men.)

Druk’s silhouette shadows the ship, I jump to his saddle once he’s close (and low) enough.

“Quick, to the Southern Water Tribe!” I command.

“ _The Avatar has escaped!_ ” Zhao growls.

(Maybe it is the anxiety, maybe it is the nerve-racking of the situation, but it seems like we approach way too slow.) “Zuko!”

“Everybody take everything you can and get on Druk!” I say as I land him heavily on the snow. “I have to get you all out of here!”

“What happened?” Katara inquires. (Anxious, and I don’t blame her.)

“Zhao tricked me, he was going to blow up this whole place with a cannon.”

“ _That asshole!_ ” Sokka curses. (Oh, great. _Now_ I’m acknowledging him by his name.)

“Call him that, but while we fly off. I don’t know if they have any other weapons in the ship.”

Amidst the panic, the villagers hasten to gather their tents and the children before climbing up Druk; Katara’s grandmother needs a little more help than the others.

I command Druk to rise and fly somewhere away into the south for Zhao’s ship to not be able to reach us.

“Look, everyone!” _Gods, what is Sokka squealing now?_ “We’re flying! We’re _flying_!”

“Um…”

“Ignore him,” Katara says, placing herself behind my back. “He’s a little overexcited.”

“I mean – ” Sokka clears his throat “ – big deal. We’re flying.”

We all scream when Druk skips a blast of fire shot up at us.

“What the – ”

Zhao’s ship is breaking through the parcel once again, shattering the ice, the snow, and the thin layer of earth underneath it all, following our course.

Katara’s grandmother gasps. “He’ll destroy the entire terrain if he keeps going!”

“Whoa!” Katara mutters. “You must have made him _really_ angry.”

“Only because _he_ made _me_ angry,” I reply.

My eyes scan the enormous, disastrous ship.

“Can any of you ride Druk while I go take care of them?” I ask.

Sokka raises his hand excitedly. “I’ll do it!”

I look at Katara.

“He’s actually really good at navigation,” she assures.

I shrug. (There _still_ aren’t many options available.)

As Sokka comes to my spot on Druk’s upper back, I move closer to his tail. “Take him closer to the ship.”

Unbelievably, Sokka does not questions my request and makes Druk to fly lower.

“Keep flying until you get somewhere safe. I’ll be fine.”

And then, I jump.

***

I roll over the accommodation cabin’s roof. Grab the edge, swing and enter the control room. The helmsman doesn’t has time to finish his screaming before I knock him out.

“Sorry,” I say.

I break the door’s lock from the inside and then take the helm. (Well, granted that I’m no sailor, but…) I spin it to one side, changing the ship’s course, even if it is momentarily – though, I’m pretty sure I tumbled down everybody on board (myself included.)

Steps thunder at the other side of the door. They quickly turn into banging and pulling, and the annoying click of the door’s lock trying to open. The door crashes stridently when the soldiers tear it down.

I escape through the window.

Zhao is in the deck, he’s the first to catch glance of me. “It’s the Avatar! Go get him!”

There are already soldiers behind my back on the roof as soon as the order leave his mouth. They throw me a few firebending attacks, knowing I have little space to move in here.

Granted, it’s a good strategy. I miss their attacks as I can, but for the narrow space I don’t have freedom to move properly. 

**Katara**

Zuko’s in trouble, the Fire Nation soldiers are like ants climbing up to the roof where he’s standing.

There’s just too many of them.

“Sokka!” I say.

“You don’t have to say it twice, little sister!” He turns around – (we were _both_ watching Zuko’s fight along with the rest of the Tribe) – and leads Druk to approach the ship once more.

Close as we are, I use my waterbending to raise a few currents from the sea the ship is splitting open and hit each of the soldiers’ stupid faces with them.

(Forget about powerlessness! This is not the time to feel sorry for myself!)

They fall once my flows punch them, and Zuko – although he doesn’t look exactly thrilled to see us when he told us to run… uh, _fly_ – has it easier fighting the rest of the men coming for him.

One of them comes from behind him.

“Zuko! Watch out!” I shout.

He spins and doesn’t even have to use his firebending to knock the idiot down.

Zhao is _fuming_. “You useless fools! Fucking tear down that dragon!”

He attempts to shoot us himself, but Zuko launches a fire blast before him.

“This is why I told you to leave!” (Yep, Zuko is officially a control freak.) “Hey, Zhao! If you’re so angry by your own men’s performance, why don’t you come to get me yourself?”

Zhao sneers. “I admit it, I underestimated you.”

He throws another firebending attack at Zuko – one great enough to force him to step back – and Zhao uses this chance to jump through the cabin’s windows to get to the roof. He shoots at Zuko again.

“Katara, you have to get out of here!”

Sokka is the one to answer: “I’m on that.”

**Sokka**

Ugh! Why does Katara has to be so loud about _everything_! She hasn’t shut up since I took Druk away from that pandemonium of a ship!

I land him on a semi-leveled spot on the snow, fairly away from that damn thing. “Everybody down!”

“Forget it, Sokka! I’m not getting down and leaving Zuko like that!” Katara simmers even while the others do as told. (Typical.)

“We have to go after that ship, Sokka! Zuko saved our tribe, now we have to save him!”

“Katara, I – ”

“Why can't you realize that he’s on our side?”

“Katara – ”

“If we don’t help him, no one will!”

“Kat – ”

“I know you don't like Zuko, but we owe him and – ”

“Katara!”

“Katara’s right, Sokka,” the kid’s pout, “What will happen to Zuko?”

“Don’t worry, kiddos!” I hook a thump to Katara. “My super waterbender sister and I are going to get him!”

Katara’s eyes go big. Then she perks up. “We will?”

“Totally!” I turn to the rest. “But you have to stay out of danger, that Zhao guy is a time bomb himself.”

“Then why do you two get to go?” (What is this? 20 questions?)

“Because Katara and I are different, we are trained warriors. And we are going to protect our tribe and its allies.”

“ _I_ am a warrior?” Katara smirks at me. (It’s my same joke-smirk, and she knows I _hate_ it when she steals it!)

“Honorary warrior,” I say. “Today only.”

The children cheer.

“Be very careful,” Gran-Gran warns. Her voice is grave, but soft. Kinda like the snow when you’re making snow angels.

“We will, Gran,” I say. “Okay, Katara, let’s go save your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my – !”

“Whatever!”

**Zuko**

Zhao charges at me with a violence I haven’t seen in a long, long time – but I can’t really talk about what I have or haven’t seen. (I was frozen for a hundred years, I should be _dead_.)

Would things be better if it had been that way?

The Avatar Spirit would’ve reborn in an Air Nomad, someone who didn’t have the ties that I have to the root of all this evil. Someone who wasn’t destined to grow the seeds of this war.

I picture my father standing in the Palace’s balcony, staring down at the troops. I remember everything: the sun getting to the terrace reflecting on his crown and eyes, the look on his face – disregarding me. He never noticed I was there with him. He was too immerse in the grandiosity of the army he had created, the weapons he had amassed. All of them bowing to him, everything red from fire and blood.

Zhao’s fire shot brushes too close to my cheekbone.

_Stop thinking about that! Focus on the battle!_

Zhao is powerful but his technique is almost disastrous. Way too simple. (Who trained him? A tigerdillo?) It would explain his distaste for shaving and his feral-like grimaces.

Breathing fire, I go for him up close. I _still_ want to hurt him, I want this to be a physical fight, I want to hurt the coward for what he did to me! For _humiliating_ me! Making _kneel_ to him!

I twist his arm so his own fire comes at his face.

He skips it and attempts to elbow me on the head; I duck.

He escapes from my front and side kicks, I hiss some more at the burns in my forearms – and my inability to swing at him because of them.

“What’s the matter, Prince Zuko? You can only handle so much wounds?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to _shut up_?” I launch a fire blast at him, ignoring the pain.

Then I twirl and hit him on his side, he grunts in pain. I elbow him in the face, his nose’s bleeding. I smirk.

“I must admit,” the blood spills on his mouth, muffling his voice, “you are quite agile for a hundred-eighteen fossil.”

“Funny,” I reply, “I was going to say you’re quite agile for an old hog.” _And one with a quite inflated ego._

Another fire gust from his part, I barely have time to skip it in time.

“Zuko!”

Up in the sky, Druk’s approaching the ship, Sokka is riding him and Katara’s waving at me.

Her eyes widen. “Watch out!”

I catch Zhao’s fist, his flame extinguishes under the bare palm of my hand.

I kick him off the cabin’s rooftop.

“Take my hand!” Katara stretches her arm so low it almost looks like she’s going to fall from the saddle.

Running to the roof’s edge, I stretch my own arm towards her.

She’s still too far, I can’t get to her reach. Her fingers are almost brushing mine. _Just a little closer…_

I scream at the fire shot to my back.

It pushes me down to the floor, it’s a symphony of groans as I fall down hitting everything that’s on my way, the wounds in my arms open some more at the crashing.

“Don’t tell me you were planning on leaving so soon, Prince Zuko.”

I hate seeing Zhao standing when I’m on the ground, I hate it! I hate _him_!

I direct some fire currents his way with my feet; he shoots at the floor, so I have to roll over.

I jump to my feet but I’m not fast enough to avoid all of the big and multiple attacks he’s throwing me. Druk tries to come close but Zhao charges at him. Admittedly, it’s more of an impulse – ( _nobody_ shoots my dragon!) –I jump to deflect his attacks but it’s difficult to handle all of them at Druk, Sokka and Katara and those at me.

“Sokka, back off!” I shout.

“But, Zuko – ”

The end Katara’s phrase is inaudible over the commotion.

I give a step back, running away from Zhao’s blasts. And then some more; I almost don’t notice when I hit the edge of the ship.

Zhao takes my astonishment as a cue to attack at my head. I only manage to half-block it with my arm, but the impact –

_Too much heat, too much..._

My gaze’s unfocused. Things are turning dark.

Katara screams: “Zuko! No!”

I fall off the edge.

**Katara**

It’s almost a blink.

When I open my eyes again, he’s no longer there. Like he had been a mirage all along.

**Zuko**

It’s cold.

It’s dark.

It’s unknown.

I can’t tell where am I, I can’t tell if this is even a place at all. I don’t feel, not even the icy water flowing around me; I only sense darkness – _colder_ darkness. It’s enveloping me. It’s swallowing me.

“Zuko!”

All sounds are drowned whispers.

“Zuko!”

I can’t hear.

“Zuko!”

_Zuko._

Yes.

I respond, my eyes open. It’s here; the power. It’s electrocuting, it’s lightning.

No, more than lightning, far destructive. Far savage. Far consuming. It’s stardust.

A true dark star collapses, fills me with newfound blinding light and rebirth. It’s demolishing itself for turning me into that obliteration; into its resurgence.

They’re not talking, I can’t hear them; they’re only holding me. Forming a chain to reach for me, keeping me from drifting away.

They’re spurring me. Encouraging me. Giving me their own anger and their drive. Nothing matters, only the power and us. Our lives. Our breaths.

I can do anything I want; I know, so I direct the water to twirl around me, ram me up.

I don’t perceive the speed, just the water, as an extension of my body.

Our body. Our souls.

_We are one._

**Katara**

It’s hard not to gasp when out of the blue – (I mean, blue _water_ ) (I mean…) (Never mind) – a giant waterspout comes up like a giant drill, but far thicker and crystalline; iIts spinning is almost hypnotical. What’s only _more_ impressive is how Zuko just _stands_ at its peak, as if he was standing on solid ground.

The water vortex throws Zhao’s ship out of course. The whirlpool itself bends down to deliver Zuko on the deck.

He steps on it calmly, almost ghostly. When the guards attempt to charge at him again, with a mere movement of his arms he commands a protective water circle. And more than just protecting, he uses the water to attack the guards. Flows of water turn into speedy jets, each knocks a soldier out without fail. (I _swear_ that I feel my jaw hitting the floor.)

With the men all finally on the floor, Zuko gestures with his arms for the vortex to just… _devour_ the ship.

It curves down crushing it. Swallowing it whole, and seemingly Zuko with it. But then he appears floating up in a giant water bubble over the humungous wave that is now what used to be Zhao’s ship. Unharmed. Unperturbed. A bit like he was floating on air alone.

“Did you see what he just did?” I exclaim.

“Now _that_ was some waterbending!” Sokka gawks.

Zuko’s bubble is wearing out, he falls.

I catch him when Sokka rides Druk close.

A few grunts and screams mix with the wind. Looking down into the ocean as we depart, the Fire Nation soldiers are stuck but unharmed enough. Zuko’s sound asleep but breathing evenly. I lay his head on my lap, his skin is cold for the wind hitting against us.

I stroke his cheek to keep him warm.

***

**Zuko**

_What the hell? Is this truly the best treatment there is around here?_ I groan and hiss some more as Katara continues passing freezing ice cubes over the burns in my arms.

“I’m sorry it hurts,” she apologizes.

“It’s not the pain, it’s the cold,” I complain.

“Sorry. Don’t know if you noticed, but we didn’t really have many medical resources, and when we left, well… we also _left_ some things behind.”

“I see.” _Spirits, the cubes feel like hundreds of needles together passing over my wide open flesh!_ “You know you don’t have to treat my injuries.”

She looks at me baffled.

“Are you kidding? This is the _least_ I can do after you came back to get us. And then after you fought Zhao for keeping him away from us. Most importantly, for keeping him away from _me_ when he first disembarked.”

Against my own self and the tension of the situation – (I have awful lots of questions to answer) – I grin.

Katara and Sokka brought me to the new piece of terrain where the Tribe settled after Zhao destroyed their home. When she noticed the wounds in my arms, her first instinct was to proceed to clean and numb them with water and ice for bandaging them herself. Now we are seating in an improvised tent, even smaller than the ones from when I first woke out of the iceberg, while she does precisely that.

She puts the ice cube down.

“Do you feel this?” Her thumb presses against one of the open burns. (More than the faint warmth of skin to skin contact, I can’t feel a thing.)

“No,” I say.

“And this?” Her fingers flutter over the rest of my forearms.

The tact is somehow there, but absent; too delicate. If it wasn’t because I watch them stroking my skin, I wouldn’t know she was touching me at all.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Then it’s time to bandage. Stay still.”

The bleeding also stopped when the abrasions dulled; it’s better that way so the bandages remain clean.

_Katara’s very efficient in nursing performances._

“I really have a lot to thank you for,” she says, even though she seems absorbed in her task. “You saved all our lives around _four_ times only today. And you also saved me and Sokka when we first met you. Everything you have done since then has been rescuing me and the Tribe.”

I shrug. (I’m not feeling self-conscious. I _don’t_ do self-conscious. I just… I’m not used to people thanking me so much.)

“It was no big deal.”

“It was a _huge_ deal,” she assures, “it was a _giant_ deal. Kind of like that wave you bent to sink Zhao’s ship.”

My gaze drops.

My arms are now fully wrapped in clean, white cloth. I can’t even get the faint feedback of Katara’s touch any longer. Her hands withdraw.

Looking back at her again, she looks lost in thought, but also doubtful, the kind of way you look when you want to ask something but don’t know how. I would like to tell her to just spill it out, but apparently, she already made up her mind for the way her eyes confidently find mine.

It is then when I notice how close we are sitting facing each other in the undersized tent.

The entrance splits open. “Hey! How’s our new patient doing?”

(Don’t know why, but Sokka’s dumb grin infuriates me _now_ more than ever.)

“Great,” Katara says. “He will have to wear the bandages for a few weeks, though.”

“He still had it better than Zhao.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure that much,” I point out.

“That’s what he gets for messing with the Water Tribe,” Sokka smirks.

He makes himself at home inside the tent sitting between Katara and me, pushing us apart to make himself space. Looking at us with strangely inquisitive looks.

“So…” he starts, “why didn’t you tell us you were the Avatar?”

“I didn’t realize _you_ were so _eager_ to chat with me,” I retort.

“You could have told _me_ ,” Katara observes, her voice low carrying a load of hurt.

I pass a hand down my face. “I know, I just… I was ashamed, okay?”

“Ashamed of what?”

“Of this!” I stretch my arm out as I could point to the entire world – the one that’s wrecking itself because I was too weak to bear my responsibilities. “ _All_ of this, it’s _my_ fault! The Fire Nation! The war!”

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself,” Sokka intercedes, “At least you’re here _now_.”

“And what difference does _that_ make?”

“That the world has been waiting for the Avatar to return and stop the war,” Katara says.

I smack my forehead. “It’s not that simple!”

“Nobody said it was,” Sokka remarks.

“Look, maybe this is not the time for us to discuss it,” Katara cuts in. “It’s been a long day, we should all get some rest after that chasing, and flying, and sinking things…”

“Yeah. You said it, little sis,” Sokka agrees. “Well, good night.”

And, just like that, he takes a sleeping mattress from a corner of the tent and lays down right on the spot.

“You’re going to sleep _here_?” I’m flabbergasted.

“In case you haven’t notice, we haven’t had time to arrange many tents, and I’m fucking exhausted after heroically rescuing you today – you’re welcome, by the way – besides, you don’t need to be in a five stars inn to get comfy.”

Katara stares at him like someone that’s just _so_ beyond desensitized to his crazy antics she doesn’t even need to shrug them off.

She does shrug, though. “Okay.”

She takes a few covers, stretches, and arranges them in a sleeping mattress form before lying down as well.

It’s _my_ turn to stare at both of them.

But, then again, what can I say? I _do_ am tired.

I lay down next to them.

***

Katara and Sokka are both breathing heavily, I sit and turn around to check on their closed-eyed faces lying on the floor. It looks like they are far gone into sleep by now, Katara’s hair is splayed over her covers and a few ends stretch onto the snow. Reaching out, I comb them with my fingers, for her hair to fall in the line of her back.

She doesn’t wake.

The snow ruffles under my weight as I exit our tent.

Druk’s sleeping outside – (flying really re-fired him up enough to handle the South Pole’s cold) – I stroke his nose softly. He grunts sleepily and opens one eye at me.

I’ve always got the impression Druk’s pupils were like massive, ragged scratches. It always felt like Druk embodied a part of me, the broken part. So if he was the _me_ that was injured and hurting, and I still could find happiness when he was next to me, that meant that piece of me couldn’t be so bad after all, right? I couldn’t be broken beyond repair.

I press a finger to my lips.

“ _Shhh_ ,” I whisper. “We have to go.”

I climb up to his saddle and prepare for us to leave.

“Trying to run away from us?”

“ _Ah!_ ” I yelp.

Katara and Sokka look up at me with matching mischievous smiles, wide awake and Katara’s combing her hair into her usual braids.

“How did you…”

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.” Katara finishes tying up her hair.

“It’s kind of hard to hide a dragon’s grunting,” Sokka points.

I hum.

“Where are you going?” Katara inquires.

“I think I already established I’ll figure it out along the way.”

“Well… according to legend, you need to first master air, then water, then earth, right?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Cool!” she grins. “Then let’s go find _you_ a master. Druk, help me up.”

She extends her arms up, and Druk keenly lifts her in his nose, turning his head to deliver her on the saddle.

My eyes widen at her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going with you,” she answers like I’m being plain dense. “Or more like _we_ are going with you. Druk, now help Sokka up.”

Druk decides to have some fun by doing a little more than that. He catches Sokka out of surprise and poises him in the air on top of his nose kind of like a lion seagull with a ball. Sokka just mumbles: “ _Whoa, whoa, whoa!_ ”

I turn to Katara again. “Katara, you don’t have to…”

“Are you joking?” she smirks. “We are in this together!”

“Seconded!” Sokka exclaims, still holding on to Druk’s nose to not fall.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

We all freeze upon the strict ( _accusing_ ) voice of their grandmother. Even Druk is taken aback. The four of us slowly look down to see her standing on the ground, frowning at us. It hardens her elderly factions.

“You almost forgot these!”

It takes me a couple of blinks to realize when her factions turn into an unexpectedly warm smile, and she’s holding three sleeping bags in her arms.

“ _Awwwwwwwwwww!_ Gran-Gran!” Katara jumps off from Druk and runs to embrace her.

Her grandmother returns the embrace just as warmly as her smile. Looking at them right now, at the aura their emanating, the sun pales in comparison to their brightness.

I stare intently, rather impolitely. I can’t look away.

Druk releases Sokka, and he comes to join them. Their grandmother hands them the sleeping bags. “You have a long journey ahead of you. And it’s been so long since I’ve had hope, but you brought it back to life, my little waterbender.”

Katara’s about to tear up. They hug yet again, it’s almost painful to watch. (I wonder what it feels like to be held like that.)

“And you, my brave warrior,” their grandmother continues, turning to Sokka, “be nice to your sister.”

She hugs Sokka. He pats her back somewhat detachedly but smiles nevertheless. “Yeah, okay, Gran.”

Katara and Sokka rush to climb up on Druk again, I barely have time to blink one more time before they’re already in the saddle.

“Take good care of them, young Avatar Zuko!” Mrs. Kanna waves at me as a salute.

“Oh, c’mon, Gran. We can take care of ourselves,” Sokka says confidently.

“Besides, Zuko has more important matters to take care of,” Katara intervenes.

“Maybe,” her grandmother agrees, “but you both found him for a reason. Now your destinies are intertwined with his.”

I try to figure out what to respond to _that_. “I… um…”

“Don’t worry, Gran-Gran!” Katara jumps in. “We’ll all be alright!”

“I know,” she concedes. “Now go ahead. As I said, it’s a long journey.”

“You heard the woman, Zuko,” Sokka puts his arm a little too overconfidently on my shoulder. “Let’s go! I already want to knock some Fire Nation heads!”

“You realize I _am_ a Fire Nation ‘head’.”

“Fire Nation heads that aren’t also Avatar’s heads. That. Happy now?”

“Let’s go, guys!” Katara spurs us.

I instruct Druk to raise and fly off.


	8. Chapter 七: Foreigner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Sokka (and the cabbage merchant) thought his life was difficult with Aang as the Avatar...

**Katara**

It’s difficult to sleep on top of a dragon.

I mean, it’s not impossible, but… Oh, well. Imagine if you had to sleep crushed by an overweight snail sloth against a hard wall. Save that the overweight snail sloth is my brother and the hard wall is Zuko’s back. (Damn, his shoulders could hold cannons!) (Maybe that’s how he got rid of the cannon Zhao was going to shoot us with.)

There’s not enough space on Druk’s back for us to lay down and we have to hold on to each other in a row while we fly, for Druk doesn’t has any leashes and we don’t want to fall off from only Spirits know how many feet up. So, I – stupid me – decided to sit between Sokka and Zuko.

I should have just hanged on to Druk’s tail, I would have slept much more comfortably without Sokka’s godawful snoring next to my ear. I push myself off from Zuko’s back as I can, blinking away the sleep; Sokka’s still snoring and drooling on my shoulder. (Geez, I’ll have to ask Zuko to burn this parka.)

He doesn’t look like he has slept at all, his back is almost unnaturally straight and his muscles are stiff.

“You should get some rest, you know,” I say. “It’s not safe for you to fly when you haven’t gotten any sleep.”

“Don’t worry about that, Katara,” he answers. “It’s not the first time I ride Druk without destination and awake for days.”

The melancholy in his voice creeps to my insides, it’s charged with a palpable unsaid memory. I picture Zuko riding alone from the Fire Nation to the South Pole.

 _Banished prince_.

My arms tighten their grasp around his waist as a reflex.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” I wonder.

“What?”

“What did Zhao mean when he called you _‘banished prince’_?”

He tenses, but it’s only his spine, his shoulders were already way too squared up – had been since we left the Water Tribe.

The sun creates a halo around his figure. “That’s… a long story.”

I shrug. “I have time. And we are going to be together for quite a while anyways.”

He doesn’t answers for a few long moments. It gives me time to look at the clouds surrounding us, get a little panicked at how high we are, stare at the dawn’s colors.

As beautiful as the reddish pink and clear blue are tinting up the sky, it makes me shiver with uneasiness; I’m not use to see sunrise during this time of the year. This remembers me how far we are from home already. How farther are we have yet to travel.

“I guess I’ll tell you when the time comes,” Zuko says finally.

The halo around him intensifies the more the sun raises. It’s golden, like Zuko’s fire and eyes.

“And when will that be?” I prop my chin on his shoulder to get a look at his face.

He glances at me like I’m a sudden second head growing from his neck. “Are you always this confident with the people you just meet?”

“Yes,” I admit shamelessly. “Not that I get to meet much people. The South Pole is lonely.”

“I noticed. Were you and Sokka really the only teenagers around?”

I nod. “Yep.”

Now, he just looks unsure. “Um… I know it’s none of my business, but… um… how exactly were you going to… I mean… whom were you supposed to…”

“Marry?” I finish for him, smirking upon his shocked expression.

“Well… yes.”

“Don’t know,” I say. “Don’t care.”

“What do you mean, ‘don’t care’?”

“It’s not something that has really being on my mind, I’ve always been busy taking care of the rest of the Water Tribe since my mom died and Dad left. I don’t have much time to be thinking about that… sort of things.”

About romance tales and girly stuff, that’s for the little girls in the Tribe. The ones whose dreams I guarded and encouraged so their eyes would never lose their hope.

Zuko hums meditatively, and I would like to know what he’s thinking right now. “So… if your father made an arranged marriage deal for you with, say, a Northerner, then…”

“Nope,” I say. “I’m not the kind of girl to settle for a marriage without love.”

Zuko just eyes me with expression I can’t quite decipher. It’s somewhat blank and disbelieving, but also soft and curious.

“That’s a pretty romantic idea for someone who just said she doesn’t think much about those things.”

“ _Awwwww!_ ” I coo. “You think I’m romantic?”

Sokka yawns. “Hey, what are you two talking about?”

Zuko and I respond at the same time, “Nothing!”

Sokka hums warily.

“So… did we already got to… Where are we going again?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” Worry tenses Zuko’s voice. “The only thing that I know is that I got to find an airbending teacher.”

Sokka stiffens, I freeze.

Zuko notices and glances at us over his shoulder. “What?”

“Uh…”

Guilt stirs at my gut – and I don’t even know why I’m feeling guilt, _I_ haven’t done anything!

Well, maybe it is for _not_ doing anything that I’m feeling so guilty; I should have told Zuko sooner. But I didn’t want to shock him more than what he already is! Can you imagine how it must feel like to wake up one day a hundred years in the future? During the ones the world set itself on _literal_ fire, and by your _own_ people? 

Geez, I just made this even _more_ awkward than what it already was!

I trail off some more. “Uh…”

“Maybe you’d want to land Druk for a while,” Sokka suggests. “There’s something… we need to tell you.”

Zuko seems weirded out, but complies. He lands Druk on a solitary piece of terrain, there’s snow around but nowhere near as much as back home. Suddenly, the sight of earth alone seems foreign.

“So, what is it that you want to tell me about?” Zuko asks, fluently jumping off the saddle.

Sokka and I follow much more slowly.

“Uh… Do you remember how the Fire Nation and the Air Nomads got along a hundred years ago?” I query.

He shrugs. “There’s not much to tell. Back then, the Fire Nation saw the Air Nomads as the weakest nation. Why?”

My stomach revolts, bile rises in my throat. _The weakest nation_. That only makes this all not only wicked, but _twisted_!

“We…”

“You want to sit for a while?” Sokka offers. His face is as pale as if he had been buried in ice. “You may need it.”

Zuko frowns. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Sokka’s right,” I say. “You better sit down. In fact, why don’t we _all_ sit down?”

Zuko’s growing exasperated. He has _no_ idea.

We all take a sit on a few big rocks, Sokka and I walk and move shakily. Weakly, like we haven’t eaten in _days_ , yet the sole thought of food makes my nausea to increase.

“See, Zuko,” I start, half covering my mouth with my hand. “When the war first started, the Fire Nation attacked the easiest targets first. It was their challenge to the rest of the world leaders, to either surpass them or face the same destiny as their victims.”

He nods. “And?”

“You remember the Air Nomads were a pacifist nation, right?”

He nods again. The brow from his healthy eye furrows.

“See… the Fire Nation, they…”

“They attacked the Air Temples,” Sokka blurts out abruptly.

Zuko’s eyes grow. “ _All_ the Temples?”

“ _All_ the Temples.”

“So, the Air Nomads had to flee the Air Temples?”

Sokka and I exchange a look.

“Zuko, they _killed_ the Air Nomads. _All_ of them. They are _extinct_.”

**Zuko**

I faint.

Not really, but it certainly feels like it.

My eyes are open, but I don’t see; I go blind. And rigid and slack at the same time. All my limps feel sagging and unfeeling, even if they remain in the same position they were just a second ago: my arms crossed over my chest, my back slightly leaned back. I don’t think I’m blinking.

“Zuko?”

Fire, like the one I can twirl between my fingers like it was nothing. Like the one, I can breathe out as if my lungs were naturally filled with it. I see it burning human flesh. See the people running away from it, their hands raising over the smoke. Cries. _Burns_.

“Zuko!”

I tremble. Katara’s forcefully shaking me from side to side.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

My hands bat hers off from my shoulders. However, it doesn’t even feel like I’m the one that directed them to; I’m too disconnected, seeing too dark. I’m sweating in the winter.

“You weren’t reacting,” she excuses herself.

I dig my elbows in my knees. Hide my face in my hands. Darkness and coldness, what I feel and see.

“Yeah, you kinda looked like a dead body,” Sokka agrees.

Katara and I stare blankly at him.

His jaw snaps close. “Sorry, not the time.”

His sister rolls her eyes and returns them to examine me. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“Do I _look_ like I’m okay?” I growl.

I’m hunching, overpowered by no visible enemy. _Of course,_ I’m not okay!

 _And_ , to make matters worse, I’m sort of envious of Katara. She’s so composed, or as composed one can be while talking about _genocide_. (For Spirit’s sake!) Her skin is somewhat ashen, but her expression is serious and her eyes are focused. Meanwhile, mine is clouded and itching with tears, and I’m clutching to my stomach in an irrational move to control the sickness. I’m not okay.

I’m _definitely_ not okay.

“Relax,” she strokes my shoulders. “Breathe.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“You want to talk about this?”

“No, Katara, I want to go find an airbending master!” I declare, standing up. Pacing. “Preferably, an _alive_ one! And if we’re talking about what _I_ want, I want to go back to a hundred years ago to stop all of this madness from unleashing and to keep _millions_ from dying!”

“To be fair, they weren’t millions,” Sokka intervenes, “Maybe just thousands.”

I glare at him but Katara’s the one to scold him: “Sokka, you’re not helping!”

“Sorry! It’s just that it is difficult to console somebody over _genocide_.”

She face-palms herself. “You know what? You’re expelled from this conversation! Go seat on _that_ tree –” she points to it “ – and sharp up your boomerang or something!”

He shrugs and pulls his _oh-so-trusty_ boomerang out. “Fine. Call me if you need more of my comforting words.”

“I doubt we will,” I grind out.

“Zuko,” Katara places her hands over my shoulders again, “don’t let the anger get the best of you.”

“What ‘best of me’?” I demand, looking her straight in the eye. “The part that ran away from his own home, or the part that let _thousands_ –” I yell in Sokka’s way “– to die burned alive?”

“Zuko,” she repeats, emphasizing. “ _Breathe_.”

Inhaling deeply, I do. Exhaling yellow fire through my mouth.

Katara’s blue eyes follow the fire until it dissipates, I can see its reflection on them.

When she returns them to mine, they are serener. “Listen, the Air Temples are still around. Their ruins weren’t destroyed. Maybe if we get to visit them, we will find something to help you learn airbending. There _has_ to be some memory of the culture, like scriptures, or portraits, or…”

“Or nothing. And I’ll never learn airbending. And I’ll never become a full Avatar. Perfect.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being realistic.”

“You’re being _pessim_ istic,” she remarks. “And until we get a more productive idea, we are sticking to mine,” she declares. “So c’mon. We have to look for a map that gets us to the closest Air Temple.”

“You don’t even _know_ where the Air Temples are but you want us to travel there?”

“I _still_ don’t hear you coming up with a better idea.”

I give her a flat look.

She lets go of my shoulders, her hands glide to take my hands. “C’mon, Sokka! We are leaving again!”

Katara yanks me towards Druk. _Geez, this girl is so bossy!_

***

**Sokka**

“You guys are lucky to have me with you,” I say.

“Really?” (I ignore Katara’s eye-rolling.)

“And why would _that_ be?” (Zuko’s question, on the other hand, is way more fun to answer.)

“As a kid, Dad used to take me to the piers to show me how to handle that scene, which included negotiating with the merchants.”

“Oh, right,” Katara says, “That’s why you came back home covered in friendship bracelets and wearing three different hats. I thought you just liked to play dress-up.”

Zuko snickers and I frown, both at her and him. “First of all, they were _tribal jewelry_ , not _‘friendship bracelets’_ ,” I pull out her sissy voice, “and second, the point is that I got experience with the sailors. I’ll get us a map in no time.”

“Whatever you say, Captain Boomerang,” Zuko says.

Katara laughs. “Haha! Good nickname, Zuko!”

_Idiots! They don’t know how to appreciate a skilled travel guide!_

I have Zuko ride us to an island in the east. From all the ones Dad took me to, it’s the closest one to our location. The Water Tribe men used to come to get resources for the rest of the village. (It’s what happens when you live so isolated, everything is too far away from home.) The trip to the island was around three days by boat, but even though flying has proven to be a faster traveling method, I would _still_ prefer one that didn’t come with the fear to fall face to the ground. (Not that _that_ happens to me often.)

Druk lands smoothly enough and I jump off his back before he hits the floor. “Okay, everyone, it’s better if only two of us go to the pier. In a group of three, at least one has to stay babysit our giant reptile.”

Druk grunts at me. I grunt back.

“Why can’t Druk come with us?” Zuko asks.

“Remember what Gran-Gran said,” Katara reminisces, “Dragons are believed to be extinct, walking Druk around would draw too much attention to us.”

“And I think right now the less attention we get, the better,” I conclude.

Zuko nods slowly. “Fine. So, who stays to watch over him?”

I look at Katara looking at me through the corner of my eye.

“Uh… _You_ will,” I say.

“ _What?_ Why do _I_ have to stay behind and do nothing?”

“It’s being practical, fiery boy. Fire Nation people _also_ calls out the attention, you know? And not the _good_ kind.”

“Sokka’s right, Zuko,” Katara agrees. “The Fire Nation is not exactly welcome around these parts. And, since you’re the Avatar… we better keep you well-guarded as well.”

Things _always_ go better when she agrees with me. (Which is why my life is so much of a complete chaos 99.99 percent of the time.)

Zuko frowns, (that’s pretty much everything that he does all the time.) “ _Fine_. But don’t take long.”

I wave the grump goodbye as Katara and I march over to the dock.

**Katara**

The pier is crowded, Sokka and I pass unnoticed.

“You know, Sokka,” I say, “I think Zuko would really appreciate if you were nicer to him.”

“Don’t you think that if he did, he would tell me so himself?” he doesn’t even turns to me when he answers.

“ _I_ would really appreciate if you were nicer to him.”

“Why?” he demands. “Everything he does is scowl, and shout, and scowl and shout.” We continue walking through the multitude scanning it for someone with a map. “And that thing he does with the fire breathing is creepy.”

“It is not!”

“Whatever.”

Grimacing and stomping my feet, I follow his track. We have to skip the rude foreign mariners that don’t even bother to look where they walk.

And their _smell_! _Puaj!_ Men are _gross_!

Normally, I would be relaxed near the water – even if there were so many rotting dead fishes in the coast like in here – but all the fuss around makes me feel trapped and choked, there’s only cursing and the sickening smell of liquor and fish. (Why would someone _ever_ have those together in the same place?) And not for nothing, but walking on the coast is the _worst_ that could happen to your polar bear dog’s fur boots. My nose crinkles down at the muddy, wet, soon-to-be-rotten material. I’ll have to make myself some new ones.

I deserve the crash that I get for not looking where I stepped. “Oh, my! I’m so sorry!”

The sailor against whom I crashed is not very happy. “Hey! Fucking look where you – ” until he turns and sees me “ – _Oh._ No worries, beautiful.”

He smiles at me, his teeth are blackened and uneven.

“What are you doing around these parts?” I step back when he approaches. “This is not a place for young ladies.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m here with my brother.”

“And where’s your brother now, huh?” Another man comes to us, clearly acquaintance with the sailor that’s facing me.

They’re both quite bulky – typical hairy, chunky seamen with skin, beards and clothes soaked by water and sweat – and ogling me up and down from their height, eyes glinting darkly.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on through their minds.

My smile is so tight it hurts. (I _hate_ forced smiles.) “If you kindly stepped out of my way, I would catch up with him.”

“And what if we don’t?”

A third man appears, flanked by another two. They have matching salivating faces. “Your brother won’t mind if we borrow you for a while,” one of them says. “Men’s code.”

I sneer at those words. The men come closer –

The water tentacle I launch at them is thin but also pure, _salty_ seawater whipping them directly in the eye.

I run immediately after it hits. “Sokka! Sokka!”

He’s nowhere to be found with the moving horde obstructing my view. There’s not even a familiar Water Tribe parka.

_Where is he?_

One of the men catches me by the wrist, his face is awfully contorted with disdain but not enough to erase that perverted glow from his eyes. They are red, which contrasts with his dark teeth and bald head whitened by sweat.

“Now we see you like it rough.”

The more I try get free, the more he squeezes his grip, up until he twists my arm. “Let me go, you creep!”

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing to my sister?”

From over my shoulder, I can see Sokka coming and charging at the idiot with his club – but the equally idiotic friends grab his arm before he can hit.

“Oh, you the brother? _Pffft!_ And we were worried _you_ would come find her.”

I kick back the hog restraining me, and throw my head back to hit him in the face. Even when he doesn’t let go, his pained groans are enough – for now.

“I thought your precious _‘men’s code’_ said you didn’t have to worry about my brother _at all_ ,” I taunt. 

“Fuck, you’re bratty! Lucky you have hot hips.”

Sokka shrieks. “You said _what_?”

I know _just_ what he said. That’s why I dig my free elbow into his throat! (Now, choking noises. _That’s_ why I like to hear!)

When he lets go of me, I call a few currents from the shoreline to me, freeze them and shoot them like lances. Granted, they are thin, too – (I don’t know how to bend great flows yet) – but they are sufficient to throw the jerks reeling back like the cowards that they are.

“Stop!” One of them pulls out a knife, presses it to Sokka’s throat. “Or your brother gets it!”

**Zuko**

“I can’t believe they didn’t tell me!” I rant. “Why in the world didn’t they tell me? Aren’t you angry about that? _I’m_ angry about that! I mean, _why didn’t they tell me?_ That my own country had _exterminated_ another nation? Didn’t _I_ deserve to know that? _Of course_ I deserved to know that, _I’m_ the Fire Prince! Well… I _used_ to be! And that’s another thing that bothers me, what am I supposed to do now a hundred years in the future? How the hell do I walk around when the Fire Nation and its people are suddenly considered mass murderers? – I mean, _are_ mass murderers! – I mean… Do you mind stop scratching your ear and listen to a word I’m saying?”

I halt my pacing and stare at Druk. He just grumbles and _continues_ scratching his ear.

“How are you so calm about this? This is kind of _your_ problem too, you know?”

He groans.

“Don’t tell me I’m being dramatic!” I say. “Don’t you feel… _lost_?”

The word fits painfully right.

I let myself fall back against a large rock, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. (Just another way to be lost: not knowing what to think.)

Suddenly I would like to be older. Adult. Wiser. To at least fit into this new era where I’m in; but I’m not. All the things and the people I used to know are gone. Even this place I’m standing onto is not the same it was a hundred years ago.

I’m alone.

Druk comes rub his giant nose against me. It tickles and I chuckle; yet, as comforting as it is to have a friend like him… I’m still alone.

Some loud smashing and collective gasps come from the distance. “What’s going on?” I wonder out loud.

Running up through it, I launch myself to the peak of the rock against I was leaning. There’s a large crowd gathered in circle at the center of the pier, observing a fight between a few sailors and... Katara. (Of _all_ people.)

She’s shooting ice lances in direction of the five men.

I gasp.

“Druk, promise me you’ll stay here while I come back!” I tell him.

His lazy groan is not much of a reassuring answer, but I’ll take it. 

**Katara**

“Let him go!” I demand.

“And what if we don’t?”

“Then I’ll stab an iceberg in your eye.”

“Then I’ll cut his neck.”

“Listen, these threats are running in circles,” Sokka points out with a knife to his neck and all.

Placing my hands on my hips, I put up a confident posture. “I don’t know if you have realized it yet, but you’re dealing with the last waterbender from the South Pole,” I say. “I would suggest you let my brother go _now_.”

One of the idiots that were harassing me scoffs. “You call _that_ waterbending? Where did you learn it, at a wading pool?”

_Calm down, Katara. Don’t let them get under your skin._

I scowl despite my own thoughts.

“Looks like I hit a nerve.”

“It isn’t the only thing we were trying to _hit_ ,” another of the perverts ogles me up and down once more.

I officially just lost it! “ _Are you freaking kidding me?_ ”

“Katara…” Sokka pleas, the knife pressing harder against his skin.

“I’m telling you to let my brother go!”

“And we have already told you what we want,” one of them says, “I think we could make a ‘fair trade’.”

I raise my hands to invoke more water. “You. Are. Some – ”

Before I can finish, another of the brutes takes my arms from behind and pulls them down.

“Get off of me!”

“I like you.” His low tone is _disgusting_!

I want to puke! I want to punch something! I want to kick these idiots, choke them, tear them down until I see them bleeding!

As I can, I hit my elbow against his face, directly in the eye.

“ _Ah!_ ”

“Don’t say we didn’t warn you, little girl,” the one holding Sokka grabs the knife tighter.

I finally rise some more water currents, ready to attack. Even if I’m not a complete waterbender, I’ll defend my brother!

It doesn’t give me time to hit when a large fire blast cuts the man’s forearm. He howls in pain, and I stare at the knife falling to the ground followed by drops of blood.

 _Zuko_.

He snipes some more blasts at the crew around me and Sokka, throwing them away. Their complaints and grunts echo around the place.

“I thought _I_ was the one that would draw too much attention.” His sarcasm is loud and clear once he steps out from the crowd and to us.

It is at moments like this – when he shakes the inexistent dust from his hands – that he comes out as more arrogant than angry. (I can’t decide which one of those two annoys me the most.)

One of the thugs he shot grabs another knife from his belt.

“Careful there!”

I push Zuko out of the way and throw a sea wave at the mobster. 

Zuko yanks me behind his back as he fires at another one of the crew. “ _You_ be careful!”

Somebody shouts: “The one that catches the firebender gets free fish!”

“Let’s better _all_ be careful,” Sokka indicates.

The crowd avalanches towards us with improvised battle cries that nearly shatter my ears, and the clanging of different weapons that make me gulp. Now the parcel is filled with their wet steps over the mud. _This is a disaster_ ; I think.

I manage to keep their hits and armaments at bay with my water tentacles; Zuko does the same with his fire.

“Don’t overwork yourself!” I scream over the commotion. “Remember that your wounds are still healing!”

He creates a fire wall to block a set of spears thrown our way. “I think that just fell second on the list of priorities!”

Sokka is striking some of the slowest bounty (uh, _fish_ ) hunters with his club. “Can you two handle this while I _do_ go look for the map?”

“Sure!”

“Take your time!”

He nods curtly, and I watch him submerge into the sea of people.

“Katara,” Zuko says. “For your own safety, you may want to step away.”

“What for?”

“Let’s just say I need some space.”

Normally, I would roll my eyes at an answer like that, but considering the situation and the implication in Zuko’s voice… I run to stand on the shoreline, where I have more access to the water.

As soon as I’m gone, Zuko goes off like a real forest fire growing the more he breathes. He jumps over the people, sniping attacks from the height and escaping before they can catch him. He mixes his firebending with physical blows, and both are so strong he tosses bulky men out of his way like they were nothing. Some of them crash against their piles of fish, or wood, or just face to the mud. It’s a real disaster, but it’s fun to watch.

Another loud crash resounds when Zuko throws a guy to a cabbage stand, cabbage leaves fly _everywhere_.

“ _No!_ My cabbages!”

Poor seller!

Somebody grabs me by the arm. It’s one of the sailors that were after me before, and he has the knife they were threatening Sokka with.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, bitch!”

A dagger flies and thrusts in his shoulder.

It’s easy for me to find Zuko’s eyes in the multitude, glowing and aiming, along with his arm extended our way.

I charge at the louts coming for him behind his back.

Once they are down, I take the dagger directly from the first idiot’s shoulder and run to help Zuko.

**Sokka**

A fish stand, no.

A firework stand, no.

A gardening stand – (what the hell is a gardening stand doing at a pier?) – (the catalogs have nice pictures, though) – but no.

Are there even “mapping stands”? Or at least a toll one…

I punch the two losers that run my way.

Maybe there’s a traveling agent that I can ask around here…

**Katara**

Shaping my water into a whip, I usher the savages away. Zuko and I stand back to back, trying to battle dozens of people the two of us alone. I wouldn’t say we’re being cornered, but we are truly running out of space to escape; and for both our heavy breathings, I would say we’re running out of energy as well.

“How did you and Sokka get into this mess?” he asks all the sudden.

“That’s…,” I look down, “kind of a long story.”

“I’m assuming it has something to do with those pieces of filth that were all over you?”

I gulp. “Sort of. I’ll tell you later.”

“I have time _now_.”

My eyes narrow at no one in particular. “I get what you’re doing.”

“Do you?” I hear the smirk on his voice.

I smirk back. “Tell you what. I’ll tell you, if you answer the ‘banished prince’ thing.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“And?”

Sokka comes gliding over the mud. (And by “gliding”, I mean sliding _horizontally_ over it.) (I suppose someone punched him harder than what he could handle.)

“Sorry, guys,” he apologizes, ungluing his face from the ground. (He’s surprisingly calm for someone talking with mud dripping into his mouth.) “There aren’t any maps around.”

“It’s not your fault, big brother,” I say.

“Technically, it is,” Zuko chips in. “He’s the one that brought us here.”

I elbow him on his side. He doesn’t have time to properly glare at me before he has to push some other thug away.

“Okay. Whatever. Let’s just leave! _Now!_ ”

I help Sokka stand up and shake off a tad of the dirt from him. And I’m _decidedly_ taking his hand all the way while we run, (like hell I’m going to get separated from him again!) Zuko and I use our bending to open space amongst the angry horde. (This appears more like a zoo rather than a pier!)

Zuko still has to apply brute force on certain people, like this loser that comes at us and he throws away over his head.

“Hey, look!” I point at the guy. “ _He_ has a map!”

Before either of them can answer, I take it from the dude’s body dug into the floor.

“Wait!” Zuko says. “We can’t steal something just like that!”

Sokka takes the money bag from his belt and throws a shower of coins at the unconscious guy. Their collective ringing is almost musical. “That will make up for it! Now _run_!”

We do.

I’ve never been happier to see a dragon in my life!

“Druk! We have to get out of here!” Zuko’s the first to hop on. “Now, now, _now!_ ”

I follow and then help Sokka get up as well; we can still hear and see our persecutors coming for us running up the road we took.

Fortunately, Druk is faster. When we fly away, I breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to see my fanart inspired on this fic (a realistic drawing of Katara as she is depicted in here) feel welcome to go to the following link: https://www.deviantart.com/heavensweetheart/art/New-Reality-Katara-Fanart-847504509?ga_submit_new=10%3A1593752045


	9. Chapter 八: Three stories

**Zuko**

I watch Katara smile while Sokka crushes her in an embrace. (It seems more awkward than comforting, at least in my opinion.)

He rubs his face against her hair, shaking his head gravely: “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against Katara’s thick locks. “I’m so sorry, little sister. I’ll never leave you alone again, I promise. I’ll watch over you like a tiger hawk. Like a dingo wolf to a human baby.”

_Um…_

Katara doesn’t get the joke either. “Uh…”

I continue treating my bandages by myself.

The material got burned with the overuse of my firebending in that havoc of a pier, my injuries reopened as well – not enough for it to be worthy of concern, but it’ll take some more time than planned for them to heal. The fabric glued itself to the abraded flesh, peeling it off makes me hiss.

“Zuko, stop that!” Katara pushes herself from Sokka’s hold, not unkindly, and runs to me alarmed. “What do you think you’re doing? You could hurt yourself more than you already are!”

I growl. “I’m fine. Why don’t you worry about _your_ injuries?”

“I already told you it’s just a bruise,” she pulls the sleeve of her parka down. “See?”

There are five purplish spots staining her wrist. (They’re fat like sausages, I’m surprised she isn’t more pained.)

“I count _five_ bruises.”

“Whatever,” she shakes her head. “Just let me help you change your bandages.”

I pull away when she tries to reach for me.

“I already told you I am _fine_ , Katara; _you_ should take care of _your_ self. I can take care of me.”

“Would it _kill_ you to stop being so stubborn?”

“Don’t say _‘killing’_!” Sokka cringes and covers his ears. “We had enough of a traumatic experience today!”

He could say that again.

“Look, the point is I can take care of myself,” I insist.

“Which is not a very good point, so I’m not taking it,” Katara says.

Next thing I know, she is yanking me by the sleeves of my coat to the nearby river where Druk is resting. Its cascade pours powerfully but harmonically. The water appears made of copper for the reflection of the sunset’s colors.

The sky is tinted but not fire-like, only lighted up in orange and yellow, with very scarce lines of red.

The entire landscape with the forest seems like it was taken out of a painting.

“I told you – ” Katara pulls me down to kneel next to the current. My teeth grind when she unwraps the bandages from my arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” she uses the river’s water to wash my skin covered in ashes. “You are fine, you can take care of yourself. I would like to say I got the memo… but I didn’t.”

My eyes narrow sharply. “I think Sokka has proven sarcasm is not a very nice quality.”

She shrugs. “It’s genetic.”

For all her talking – and how obviously annoyed she’s at me – she _does_ take the nursery role seriously; her touch is efficient, yet gentle as she washes my wounds, careful to not induce me too much pain. Truthfully, I am not _fully_ complaining. It alleviates a share of the stinging.

“Why are you so angry tonight?” she inquires observing the water fall over my skin. “I mean… more angry than usual.”

Both of her sleeves are rolled up to not wet her parka. The more I stare at the finger-like bruises circling her wrist and shaping a clear hand, the darker they look, far more hurtful than what Katara is acting. She said some perverts groped her and that’s why she got into the fight in the first place… I should have gone with her and Sokka when they left for the pier.

I should have stopped them from going overall.

I _never_ should have listened to Sokka and take us to that place for starters!

I don’t know from where all this guilt is coming from, it isn’t like _I_ did anything for those filths to come at her.

Maybe it is just a matter of honor. She _is_ my responsibility after all.

_She doesn’t have to be, she decided to come by herself._

Doesn’t matter, she is _still_ my responsibility.

I pass my free hand down my face to stop the argument with myself.

“Zuko?”

My gaze darts back to Katara. “Yes. Sorry. I mean… What were you saying?”

She merely eyes with a strange expression on her face. Her eyes look darker under the dusk’s light, like they had navy blue-colored spots.

“Nothing,” she answers, finally.

Perhaps I should punch myself instead, for making this whole moment unnecessarily awkward.

Even while Katara remains carefully tending my wounds, she is quiet and serious as I have never seen her.

“Are you…” I start. “Are you okay?”

She glances at me indifferently. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

“It is just that… Sokka was really shaken back there. I thought it had to be for a reason.”

“I already told you, he’s overprotective,” her answer is curt and disregarding.

I bite my lip. “Yes, but I…”

“What are you trying to say, Zuko?”

There is nothing disregarding in the way she is looking at me now. Her eyes are composed, but their force is nearly crushing like she could make me confess _all_ my faults with just a share of her willpower alone.

It is a little intimidating. I nearly reel back.

“I… um…” I bite my lip once more, aiming to taste blood. “I am sorry you encountered people like… that. At the pier. I mean…”

“You mean…?”

I inhale deeply. “Katara, I am _trying_ , okay? I am not good… at…”

“Conversations?” The question is only half-serious considering the way the corner of her mouth curves upwards in a not-very-discrete smirk.

“Yes. That, actually.”

“I got that impression,” she says, returning to her all-smiley, sassy persona.

I sigh, relieved.

“Don’t worry about that,” she reassures. “I do appreciate you trying.”

“But… you _do_ want to talk about that?”

For a moment, she freezes. All of her movements halt, and her gaze doesn’t meet mine.

“Maybe just not right now, okay? Sokka’s right, we had enough of an eventful day today.”

I nod, taking in her hunched shoulders.

“By the way,” she says, letting go of my arms now that they are wrapped in new pieces of clean cloth, “I almost forgot to give this back to you.”

She takes something out of her belt.

“My dagger!” I smile – and that is something very uncommon for me to do.

Katara studies it before my eyes, turning the blade from side to side.

“Pretty,” she concludes, handing it to me. “I took the blood off from it.”

“Thank you.” (I mean that.) I return the dagger to the case. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost this.”

“You certainly like knives quite a lot, don’t you?”

“You just said this one is pretty.” Which is not a very accurate way to describe a _knife_.

“Yes, but still. Dao swords _and_ a dagger?”

“It is better than no swords and no dagger.”

Katara laughs. I smile. (Seriously, what’s up with that tonight?)

“Well, the message in the inscription is nice,” she says as I return the blade to its case. It shines emerald green under the sunset. “ _‘Never give up without a fight’_. That’s… inspiring.”

“Thanks. The dagger is actually from the Earth Kingdom. It was a gift from… a friend.”

“From the Earth Kingdom?”

“No, from the Fire Nation.” I twirl the case between my fingers. (A little automatically; it helps me think.) “But he used to travel a lot.”

“Must have been a fun friend.”

“He was,” I whisper, absently. “Roku was my best friend.”

Druk growls angrily.

“My _second_ best friend,” I clarify.

He purrs back to sleep.

“He was also my firebending teacher,” I continue.

“Really?” Katara’s dazed. “He must have been _some_ firebender; your bending is _awesome_!”

I shrug. “No, it is not. You didn’t see Roku’s. Or Azulon’s.”

Katara pauses for a few beats.

“Firelord Azulon was your younger brother, right?”

My answer is another weak murmur: “Yes.”

We stay like this for a few more breathes, the wind carries the silence between us. I silently pray for a few more moments of sunlight.

I don’t want to have this feeling in the dark. Not yet.

“My dearest condolences,” Katara says.

My shoulders rise and fall. “Don’t worry about it. I guess I had already said goodbye to him when I left the Fire Nation.”

“Why was it that you left?”

I open my mouth to answer.

Then I see the fire come at me once more.

My jaw snaps close. “It is not the time for me to tell you yet.”

Katara is surprisingly understanding. “No worries. At least you were more talkative tonight.”

“Don’t get too used to that.” I stand up and walk back to our camp.

“Oh, c’mon!” Katara teases, following me. “Don’t you know that talking is good for the soul? It’s freeing!”

“My _soul_ is fine, thanks.”

“It could be better.”

“I like it just the way it is.”

“There’s _always_ space for improvement!”

I roll my eyes. _Ugh!_

***

**Katara**

I lost count of how many times I have tossed and turned. (It’s not a very elegant method for falling asleep – counting how many times you turn over the mattress – but one can always fall asleep from boredom.) (I learned that listening to Sokka talk me about his workout routines.)

I tried counting the stars, too, but I got lost too many times.

I have never understood that about counting all the stars in the sky. Or rather, I do understand it, but I just know you can’t do that standing (or laying) in a single spot. (The sky is _huge_ , I would have to walk around the world for the rest of my life in order to count _all_ of the stars.)

 _Walk around the world_ ; the idea makes me smile.

“You can’t sleep?”

My eyes drift to Zuko’s laid-down silhouette next to me. The moonlight is too faint, but I can see his eyes closed. His arm’s flexing under his head as a pillow.

“No, not really,” I answer. “What about you?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I… um… have some troubles for sleeping.”

I hum. “And what do you do when you can’t sleep?”

“Think.”

“Idle minds,” I say.

“What are you thinking about?”

About rotten breathes talking too close to my ear.

Dirty hands harming my arms.

Gross sweat splashing over me.

About what would have happened if I…

“Nothing,” I say.

Zuko’s silence is strangely comprehending as if he knew what am I hiding behind that reply. I don’t know if it makes me want to curl into the safe depths of my sleeping mattress or punch him furiously. I don’t need the palpable pity coming from him. I don’t need _anyone’s_ pity, period. I could take care of myself at the pier. I showed them! I would do so again, I can handle myself.

I… can…

Thinking it better, I would like to walk into the forest and live amongst the woods for the rest of my life and never come back. (Stay away from men and stuff.)

Without noticing, I settle for the first option, curling protectively into myself. A little like Druk does.

“What about you?” I wonder. “What are _you_ thinking about?”

His chest expands with a heavy breathe. His eyes open and I can see their golden color vividly. They are almost cat-like, they glow in the dark.

“Nothing.”

The air becomes heavier the more we stay awake, listening to each other’s breathing, but without saying _anything_. (Darkness and silence sound _horrible_ together!)

“Is there something you’d like to talk – ”

“Do you want to talk – ”

More silence, this one _cutting_ like _scissors_.

Zuko’s the first to answer this time: “No.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” I agree, making my voice bright. (Why do I bother smiling? Is not like he can see me at all.) “Well, good night!”

“Good night.”

I roll away.

**Sokka**

_Should I tell them that they are not as subtle as they think they are?_

Nah. What for?

Katara has never been the one to listen to me anyway, she’d probably just sneak away and have midnight conversations with Zuko about things she’d rather not tell me about. Not that it bothers me.

Well, not much.

 _Yes_ much?

Look, I know they weren’t really talking about anything, but… it doesn’t take a _genius_ to figure out what’s going through Katara’s mind.

And rightfully so; I didn’t protect her.

I hug my pillow. _I’m so sorry, little sister._

I’m a terrible big brother, I should have _never_ taken her somewhere so dangerous. I knew how things were like at that place, I should have just left her with Zuko. (How sad it is that my sister would be safer with a _firebender_ than walking with _me_?)

Dad would be _so_ disappointed in me, I let him down.

I let _Katara_ down.

I let Mom and Gran-Gran down.

I can’t believe this, I let _everyone_ down in just _one_ day!

I face-palm myself. _I’m so sorry, little sister._

 _I will_ never _again let_ anything _happen to you._


	10. Chapter 九: Into the shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zhao-centric chapter today!! It's my first time writing manipulative villains! I am soooooooooo excited!!!

**Zhao**

“I can’t believe the Avatar Zuko is still alive!”

Quashing an unprofessional sneer, I make my voice final. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t stay that way for long.”

“That’s a bit shooting for the moon, Commander Zhao,” Shinu’s musing is annoyingly condescending. “A hundred years in only _who_ knows where weren’t enough to kill him. What makes you believe that you can?”

“My excellence in strategy and combat.”

Shinu hums, further haughtily. “And if what I heard from your men is true… he did not only somehow kept himself at an optimum age and physical shape, he also proved those qualities were enough to defeat _you_ and your entire crew. Handcuffed.”

My jaw tics. Strongly.

Nonetheless, I refuse to give Shinu – or Zuko, for that matter – the satisfaction of getting so easily under my skin.

“He got free from his handcuffs,” I declare after a heavy few moments of silence, strengthened by the sound of our footsteps through the watchtower’s hallways.

Mine is steady and solid, of course; with the determination of a worthy to be an admiral. And I’m planning on using said determination and knowledge for aiming at something greater than that. Something that will make history chant my name for generations.

_Zhao, the Invincible!_

_Zhao, the Conqueror!_

Shinu doesn’t have to muster his snort, his mockery comes in palpable waves from his arrogant, portly persona.

“He got free from a pair of _fire-proof_ handcuffs by _himself_ ,” he recollects. “You realize that doesn’t really help your case.”

The deeper my scowl grows, the sharper my tunnel vision becomes; settled intently ahead as if pointing at a target. That’s exactly what I need now, a target – sort of what I already have, actually. I have to focus my senses on it, ease my fists blazing themselves.

“It wasn’t like that,” I debate instead of shooting a fire gust at the mere walls, “He wasn’t alone. He had a dragon to help him escape and he somehow… _domesticated_ some Water Tribe… _servants_ to assist him. Besides, there was this moment when he acquired some strange… _energy_. He never – not even once – used another element other than fire during our confrontation, but then he bent a monstrous ocean wave, bigger than the Fire Palace itself, and walked over it like it was his own height.”

“I would have paid for seeing that,” it’s his answer. “Isn’t it ironic? How the Fire Nation’s greatest enemy turned out to be one of its own people? A member of the royal family on top of that.”

Now it’s _my_ turn to scoff.

“Didn’t you learn anything at school, Colonel Shinu? Prince Zuko was banished out of treachery and couldn’t even fight to maintain his own honor. He embarrassed his father in front of an entire Agni Kai chamber in one of the most disgraceful days for our nation. Given to him that in another time he was a masterful combatant, the books I read recorded him as one of the most talented firebenders in history and the ace of the Fire Nation, yet that only makes his downfall even _more_ despicable. He turned his back on his country! His family, and everything it stands for! If anything, he is a dark stain in our nation’s name that must be erased before he corrupts it for good!”

The silence turns eerily astounded. The building’s walls absorb my words, fusing them with their concrete and iron.

Finally, we arrive at the top floor. Shinu is the one to open the entrance to the balcony.

“Prince Lu Ten,” I greet, plastering a welcoming smile on my face as I enter the terrace. “I can’t even begin to describe how grateful and honored I am that you agreed to meet with me.”

The young man has grown quite a lot over the years. And he has advanced in his military career as swiftly – and _easy_ – as one would expect from a member of the royal family.

His blank eyes bore into me. “Greetings, Commander Zhao.”

He spins around to look over the terrace’s railing, discounting me.

My teeth grate.

“However, I would appreciate it more if you called me Colonel Lu Ten while I’m in service,” it’s his next statement. “I wish to honor the charge and the cause given to me by my country’s armed forces.”

“As you wish.” (Not only they grate, they _crush_ between each other.) 

It certainly _is_ surprising the boy has reached _any_ charge so far. He might be tall, but his physique is just a couple of pounds above slender, not enough for an appropriate soldier’s build. Though, truthfully, I waste my time giving him a second thought. He is nothing more than the shadow of his father.

“And General Iroh,” I bow to said older man once he spins from his spot at his son’s side. “Great hero of our nation.”

“ _Retired_ General,” he remarks amicably.

I wouldn’t blame anyone if they didn’t believe this affable old man is in reality the most legendary firebender the country has ever seen. I’ll have to be convincing for him to join my mission.

“So, what do my son and I owe the pleasure to be invited to your harbor?”

“And more importantly,” Lu Ten finally returns his attention to me, “why the insistence for this meeting to be so furtive? In your letter, you pleaded for me to not mention my crew that I would be speaking to you personally during our passage through the harbor.”

My eye twitches. _I didn’t “plead”!_

“My apologies,” I bow to him as well. “I assure both of you secrecy is not my way to repay my fellow soldiers camaraderie, but I’m afraid I’m in possession of rather delicate information that I considered imperative to share with you as discreetly as possible.”

“Which is?”

I look over my shoulder to Shinu guarding the door. He nods.

“The Avatar is alive,” I pronounce.

Both of their twin eyes broaden, creasing their faces into an expression news like this merits.

“I beg your pardon?”

Lu Ten’s voice is slightly breathless and dry.

“The Avatar,” I repeat, making the effort to not give away my proud smirk. “I encountered him mere few days ago. My crew and I were investigating some strange signs shot from a Water Village at the South Pole, it sort of looked like the residents accepted him as one of their own.”

“An _airbender?_ ”

_My, don’t I hate being the deliverer of bad news._

“I’m afraid not, _Colonel_. I mean the ancient firebender Avatar: Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation.”

And, just for fun, I add: “Your ancestor.”

***

“This doesn’t make any sense!”

Lu Ten’s panic would be worthy of mocking if it didn’t benefit me so much.

I take another sip of the ginseng tea I ordered for us; (General Iroh _loves_ tea.) (Don’t believe for a second this is cheap bribing! This one is the _best_ and most expensive tea in the Fire Nation!)

“Avatar Zuko was supposed to be deceased for _years_!”

“I can’t explain it either, Colonel, but it was unmistakably him. He had the left side of his face burned.”

“Oh, big deal!” Lu Ten shoots up from his seat. “A sloppy firebender with a burn scar, he _certainly_ must be the Avatar! Heavens, I knew you were desperate for ascending, _Commander_ Zhao, but this officially goes _too_ far!”

My fingers clutch the cup in my hand. My eyes assess the _kid_ over its border, “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

A weapon display collapses behind us.

“Eh…” Iroh stands by its side, with his teacup in hand and staring at the smashed display innocently. “My fault, entirely. But I think my son has made a rather valid observation, Commander. How can we be truly sure that the young man you spotted was the Avatar? It could be pretty much anyone.”

“I recognized him for the portraits in the history books I studied,” I explain. “His face is the same as the day he left the Fire Nation. He’s identical to the Fire Lord.” I turn to Lu Ten. “And when he waterbended right after shooting me a couple of fire blasts, that kind of gave me an idea.”

“You have to admit your story is pretty implausible,” Lu Ten remains unconvinced, but his panic has dissipated into his usual boredom. “A young man kept himself eighteen years old for over a century? Did he tell you he used some sort of magic trick for it?”

“I think the fact that he has performed so many inexplicable deeds is nothing but proof of the reach of his power.”

Lu Ten scoffs. “ _Age_ -bending? Seriously, Zhao?”

“Well,” Iroh mutters, “new family members are always welcome. And I guess technically the young man we’re discussing is my _uncle_.” He chuckles. “Haha! Such lovely irony.”

“Be serious about this, Father.” For once Lu Ten’s scold is not directed at me. “The Avatar is the _only_ one who can stop the Fire Nation from winning the war!”

“You know well that I no longer wish to involve myself in matters of war, son. As devoted as I am to my country and my family, I feel that my fighting days are over.”

“Don’t say that, General Iroh.” I stand up. “The reason why I chose to share this information with you first was to make a very important request. I want you, two of the strongest members of the royal family, to join my search for the Avatar.”

“My father has already expressed himself about his view on the war,” Lu Ten states. (I note the slight frown between his eyebrows.) “And…,” he eyes me curiously and warily, “what exactly you mean with ‘joining your search’, Commander?”

I grin. (Despite our differences, I can’t accuse the guy of being stupid.)

“I mean for you to work alongside me towards a shared goal: stopping the Avatar from tearing down the Fire Nation.”

“Working alongside… _you_?”

“Yes,” I remark.

His face is an impassive picture. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. My responsibilities are with my men.”

“I think your responsibilities are with your country as a whole.”

“I think I can tell what my responsibilities are without _your_ help.”

Another crash.

“Oh, my! I must be getting clumsy with the age,” Iroh laments himself, although without much emotion. He takes another sip of his tea. “But I think I speak for my son and me when I say that, sadly, neither of us is interested in joining this quest of yours, Commander Zhao. Even if it is for different reasons.”

“ _Extremely_ different reasons.”

(Lu Ten’s murmuring would be inaudible for most, but not for me.)

Set my brain to plot, and I come up with an answer that’ll give me just enough time to settle _all_ the strings I’ll be pulling in the near future:

“I respect your decision, but I believe answering right away is not a very smart move, for circumstances can change rather easily. How long is your ship going to stay for repairing, Colonel Lu Ten?”

He’s still wary.

Not enough to tell my real intentions, though.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“If your answer is still the same by then, I’ll leave you to continue your way. But if you change your mind for one reason or the other, just let me know and I’ll be more than happy to discuss my plans with you.”

_Time to get the engines going._

***

(How funny – and tragic – it is that I don’t even have to guard the dock to find Lu Ten on it?)

He’s predictable like that.

“Trouble for sleeping, Colonel?” I play dumb.

His permanent indifference never leaves his expression, but it’s not distrustful.

“Just checking the progress of the repairing,” he says, “This ship is an antique royal relic.”

“One of the first models manufactured exclusively for Fire Lord Sozin at the war’s starting days,” I recall, appreciating the great boat. “It has gone through a lot.”

“That’s why it needs maintenance and updating so often.”

The moonlight reflects on the golden details of the vessel. (They’re not made in actual gold. War does not bring riches with it.)

“Have you thought about my request from earlier?” I wonder out loud.

“Not really for my part, but I asked my father if he wanted to remain stuck in his newfound sedentary lifestyle instead of doing something for himself.”

“It can’t truly be described as newfound,” I point out. “He has been stuck in it for the past five years.”

His voice is one of a defeated man. “Yes.”

_Perfect._

“I never understood your father’s departure from the military.” I make my voice shocked when I add: “And then to his birthright to the throne.”

“Me neither,” he emphasizes. “One day we were ready to conquer Ba Sing Se, and the next one he just… stepped down. He _quitted!_ That’s just…”

“Perhaps he saw something you and the rest of the men didn’t, Colonel. He has a great tactical mind.”

“That’s what I used to believe,” he states. “But there was truly no logical reason for us to retreat. There wasn’t _any_! And the outcome was the most shameful military defeat in his and _my_ career!”

“Or perhaps he just lost his motivation,” I say. “It happens even to the greatest ones once they reach a certain age.”

“You think?”

“Of course. He probably only needs a new goal to set his eyes onto.”

Looking into the dark horizon, I remain acutely alert for Lu Ten’s responses. He hums meditatively.

“Maybe I can persuade him to join your vanity project,” he agrees.

“That would be an honor for me, but I thought you said he wasn’t interested. _At all_.”

“He isn’t,” he sounds defeated again.

_So weak._

“It would be easier to convince him if you joined as well, Colonel. He has always had a soft spot for you.”

He barks. “I’m not a kid anymore, I don’t need to be following my father around!”

“And you won’t. _He_ will be following _you_ around,” I explain. “Besides, don’t take it as some family matter, take it as a favor to a superior.” My hand lands on his shoulders. “A way of helping a high-rank officer out of a dark place.”

_C’mon, boy. We were doing fine, don’t back down now._

“Well…” his gaze is lost into thin air; a few loose pieces of hair escape from his topknot, pushed by the wind, “I must recognize you have a point and the Avatar is the greatest threat for our nation as of now.”

“Probably as of _ever_ ,” I note.

“Yes,” he replies. Then surrenders with a sigh. “Alright, Commander, I accept to join your quest.”

“That’s wonderful!” I exclaim, rejoicing in my victory. “Now we just have to communicate it to your father – ”

“That’s not necessary.”

We both make an abrupt spin to find General Iroh no more than a couple of feet away from us.

The old man looks just like any other: approachable, plump, smiley; the only remarkable trait in his physical appearance alone is the royal headpiece tying the topknot in his head.

His smile turns contrite. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that despite my chunky complexion I have very light feet.” A chuckle.

“No need to apologize, General,” I say. “But may I ask how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to hear a fair share of the conversation.”

He steps closer. “And I would be delighted to join your quest as well if it’s in the company of my son.”

“ _Perfect_ ,” I taste the word, the triumph in it. My name will be a synonym in the future.

_Zhao, the Magnificent!_

_Zhao, the Invincible!_

_Zhao, the Conqueror!_

**Iroh**

Zhao is a despicable man indeed.

His smirk is pronounced and smug. The worst part is that it doesn’t even reach his eyes; they’re just dark, glassy, and unfeeling. Hungry. But the class of inhuman hunger that craves an undeserving power that will not compensate the blackness of his heart.

Manipulating my own son for making _me_ fall into his trap?

Even more so, believing _I_ wouldn’t notice? That he can outsmart age and wisdom?

And he has the _nerve_ to stand in front of us believing nobody can see his true colors, and the ignorance to further believe he’s the one that hides them so well the rightful punishment can’t reach him for his faults.

But you know what, Zhao? You’re going to _get it_!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lu Ten, open your eyes, man! He's manipulating you!!


	11. Chapter 十: Evil angel, loyal demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!! I already said on Tumblr that I intended to update earlier today, but... the energy was cut off until now. I would like to complain a little about it, but oh, well! Venezuelans can't be picky. 
> 
> Anyways, here's the new chapter, I'm super excited for you to read it, and I think that after this I'll take some time to update another one of my fics while I write a fair amount of chapters for this one, so you won't have to wait so long for so little content each time. Love you!! 😘😘
> 
> Edit: I performed some changes to the names of the deities because I remembered how some East Asian fans expressed their contempt over the names in the Avatar World being only random words in Japanese and Chinese. I’m sorry, it was insensitive and unoriginal from my part to do the same thing and I apologize if I hurt/insulted any fan with it.

**Katara**

_List of marvels I’ve seen on this trip:_

_Number one: The current Avatar feeding his dragon making train noises._

The cat-salmon he’s holding looks heavy but Zuko manages to wave it in front of Druk’s eyes and nose. Druk’s stare is intent on his soon-to-be breakfast, greedy, and expectant as it follows the fish’s moves. He’s _salivating_ – really; it’s soaking Zuko’s boots, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“And here comes the Ba Sing Se Express, arriving at its next stop!”

His voice is raspy as he imitates the sound of the wagons when pushed by the earthbenders. (It kinda sounds like _Swhizz! Swhazz! Swhizz! Swhazz!_ ) I doubt those are the _actual_ train’s noises… but Druk is _thrilled_!

He finally opens his jaws wide for Zuko to throw the fish inside – and speaking about Zuko, he looks like he’s enjoying himself pretty much this morning.

He doesn’t know that I’m here, otherwise, he would have frowned and brooded and would act all _I’m-so-dark-and-mysterious_. (I giggle just from thinking about it.) Too bad I ruined my own cover: My foot accidentally stomps over a small branch when I lean against a nearby tree. It cracks.

 _Aaaaand…_ Zuko’s head jolts to me like a coil. 

My hand flies to my mouth before more giggles can escape from it.

“Katara!” Zuko’s face fluctuates from shocked to frowning. His arms cross over his chest. “Don’t you know that eavesdropping is impolite?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but wonder _‘what’s a train doing around here?’_ and follow the noise.”

He is… unimpressed, “Very funny – _not._ ”

My laugh is ringing.

“I didn’t know Druk had such a ritual for eating breakfast, though,” I muse while I run to pet said _oh-so-adorable_ dragon _._

“Now you know.” Zuko kneels next to the river to wash his fishy hands. “He doesn’t eat breakfast if I don’t do that whole performance. I think he just likes to torture me.”

Druk grunts in a rather affirmative tone, _I_ decide to not point out that Zuko wasn’t complaining about the performance just a moment ago. Settle for a simple “I see” instead, pass my hands over Druk’s scales. They’re stiff but skiddy.

Zuko comes to do the same once his own hands are clean.

“ _Soooooooooooo…_ ” (The ring my lips form becomes tinier and tinier the more it stretches the letter.) “Have you ever been to Ba Sing Se? The Earth Kingdom’s capital?”

I have wanted to go; my grandfather used to tell us stories about how much he used to travel there when he was young.

Dad used to bring us Earth Kingdom gifts when he went to look for resources for the Tribe.

Even Mom traveled before things got _really_ bad with the war. (I’ve always wondered how she must have been in her youth, probably the most beautiful girl in the world.) (She certainly was the most beautiful _woman_.)

All of them agreed on _one_ thing: the outside world was _beautiful!_ With nature and cities, and bright colors, and the change of the seasons…

“Um…” Zuko mumbles, looking down. “No, I haven’t, really. But I have… _had_ friends that did.”

“Right. Like that friend you told me about last night. Roku, was his name?”

He nods, his voice and eyes are absent, “Yes.”

“Maybe we could go together one day,” I offer.

“I thought you wanted to go to the North Pole,” he glances at me over his shoulder. We’re standing side by side.

“Well, eventually we _are_ going to the North Pole, or else neither of us will learn waterbending.” My shoulders lift and fall weightlessly. “We could go to Ba Sing Se after.”

“You’re getting pretty carried away with all this traveling.”

“It’s called travel bug, Zuko. I thought someone who memorized train noises _sooooo_ well would understand.”

The face he makes is _priceless_! “Remind me why I let you come with me.”

“Because I’m an _amazing_ conversationalist.”

His lips curve up and down simultaneously at the corners. “You sound like Sokka.”

I make an elaborate act out of gasping and reeling back with a hand to my chest. “Geez, Zuko! You didn’t have to go for such a low blow!”

He smiles. (Despite himself, that’s obvious.) But he _smiles_!

 _Progress!_ I fist-pump myself inside my head.

Yet, the small hole his mouth digs into his cheek makes my eyes rake up the rest of his face.

His scar bites from above the place his left eyebrow should be to below his cheekbone, the borders of it resemble real teeth marks piercing his healthy skin. It doesn’t make his face look deformed, just… _divided_ ; the fleshy red clashes against the paleness. It’s inharmonic.

A flash of gold slices to me beneath the abraded tissue. I rip my eyes away.

“Sorry,” I say, quietly.

Zuko’s voice is indifferent. Resigned. “No worries.”

“It’s just that…” I bite my lip, looking for the appropriate description. “It looks… recent.”

A few seconds of silence pass by, during which the winter air pushes a mass of clouds to further block the already faint sunlight. Cold sneaks under the sleeves of my parka. The frozen-wood trees look somber under such blurry light, their leaf-less twigs look a lot like tentacles growing to trap us away from the sunshine.

“I guess it _was_ somewhat recent,” Zuko says at the end, his fingers tracing the skin folds over his left cheekbone. “At least… until I left the Fire Nation.”

 _And got trapped inside that iceberg_.

Suppressing the urge to ask further is difficult, but it gets easier if you already know the answer.

 _It’s not the time for me to tell you yet._ (What the hell does that even _mean_?)

A knot of hurt ties at my gut.

I know I shouldn’t expect him to open up all of a sudden, especially to someone he only met recently, but every time I believe we are becoming closer we crash against a fortress wall! One that Zuko has built around himself.

I wonder if he realizes it. That loneliness is simply a cage you make with imaginary cell bars.

“We… um… better take a look at the map,” he says, already shooting himself up to Druk’s back in a single jump. “If we want to find out where are we heading next.”

_Right._

Druk carries me up on his massive nose to put me on his back as well, where I watch Zuko going through his bag looking for the map we… uh… _found_. The rest of his luggage would be unassuming… if it didn’t consist of silk, tailored clothes and armors, and sword cases with details made in gold and bronze.

As fascinating as they are to look at, my eyes stare at Zuko’s bandaged hands instead. They seem so out of place roaming through such expensive stuff it’s not even funny; their fabric is already humid and muddy.

“Are your wounds okay?”

“Yes.” Zuko examines his palm briefly. “Thanks for fixing them.”

“I _wish_ I had ‘fixed’ them,” I say. “They’ll take _weeks_ for healing.”

“It’s okay, I can handle it.”

(Just like he can handle small-talk, apparently.) His answers are so curt they’re almost rapid-fire. 

I shouldn’t make much of it, he’s being this closed off ever since we met. First, not telling me he was the Avatar when I _specifically_ asked him if he believed _he_ was reborn. Second, not telling me he was a _prince_ of the Fire Nation. Third, refusing to tell me more about him so we can finally stop being civil but still strangers. Sometimes it’s like – if I couldn’t see him and touch him – he wouldn’t even be here.

My hand reaches trailing my fingertips over the white cloth covering his arms.

The back of his hand, down to his exposed, bruised knuckles.

 _He_ is _here._

Zuko tenses despite the thick bandages keeping us from skin to skin contact.

“Look. I found the map.” He pulls it out and then pulls away.

_Right._

**Zuko**

Katara and I look down at the map together, following the lines and written-down indications, looking for the closest Air Temple. Yet, my concentration is not on point today. Not now. I’m too highly aware of Katara’s presence. We’re too close, sitting in front of each other; if we lifted our eyes, our eyelashes would nearly entangle. The thought makes me shiver.

I squeeze and rub my arm – the one she was caressing just a moment ago.

Another shiver.

“Hey, look!” I point to a spot in a row of mountains at the east of our location. “This is the Southern Air Temple! And we’re just a few hours away from it!”

“We have to go wake Sokka up.”

Effectively, when our eyes raise and meet, it’s as if there was only a thin string of air between our faces.

I turn around and slide through Druk’s long tail, rushing to our camp.

(How shocking. Katara and I _already_ woke up, packed our sleeping bags, put up and then down a bonfire, ate breakfast… and Sokka’s _still_ asleep!)

“Wake up, Sokka,” I shake him lightly with my boot. “We’re leaving for the Air Temple.”

His answer is a god-awful, beastly yawn. “Sleep now. Temple later.”

He rolls away. I frown.

“He’s not really a morning person,” Katara explains, coming closer.

I hum and look down at the somewhat buckled mass he shapes in his sleeping bag. Heat up my fingers. Poke him at his side fast enough to not burn him… gravely.

At another moment, I would say watching him jump up to the sky and then fall back to the ground with such a high-pitched howl it could shatter crystal is funny – but we are short on time now.

“Sokka’s awake!” I announce.

Katara’s grin can’t be hidden not even with both her hands over her mouth.

*******

**Iroh**

My heart aches just from watching Lu Ten looking at the tides from Zhao’s deck. I never thought he would end up in this, at the orders of a persnickety, despotic wannabe dictator; I should have protected him better. That’s what I’ve _always_ tried to do: protect him.

And I had to sacrifice us in order to do so.

In another time, we were one. A family. And even though we still are, that ties of blood can never be broken, it’s not the same. I’m not his hero anymore, not a figure that’s worthy of trust for him. Rightfully so, I haven’t been honest to him.

I can’t.

The secrets and truths I’ve seen... they’re too much for him – for _me_ to bear.

***

**Katara**

“Are we there yet?”

“No.”

“Are we there yet?”

“No.”

“Are we there yet?”

Zuko exhales fire. “Sokka, what part of _No_ is the one that you _don’t_ understand?”

“The part where you said we would get there fast, _apparently_.”

“We _just_ left the camp!”

“Can you two _not_ scream while I’m sitting in the middle?” I frown as deep as I can muster at both of them. “You’re breaking my _ears_ , for Spirit’s sake!”

“I would gladly slash out _mine_ if it means not hearing Sokka anymore.”

Sokka’s eyes widen way too gleefully, “Oh, I would pay for seeing that.”

Druk gives a little tremor.

“Sorry, pal,” Zuko pats him at the side of his head. “On my defense, it is Sokka’s fault.”

“ _Mine?_ ”

“Yes, _yours_!”

“What did I just say about screaming?”

Druk shakes us yet again so we’ll cut the crap, and I would like to point out that it’s not _my_ fault, but it’s better to avoid a fed up dragon from dropping in the middle of a flight. 

“Okay, okay, Druk,” Zuko says. “We’ll behave while we’re riding.”

“Yeah, when we land Zuko and I will yell at each other as far away from you as possible.”

I scowl at Sokka’s comment, but Druk roars in agreement and speeds up to the directions Zuko commends him.

For what it sounds, Sokka’s stomach picked this time imitate Druk’s roars.

“Hey, stomach, be quiet, okay? It’s not _my_ fault _someone_ dragged us out of the camp before I could have some food.”

“Neither it is that _someone’s_ fault that you couldn’t wake up earlier so we wouldn’t waste valuable time,” Zuko remarks.

I sigh. “This is going to be a long ride, isn’t it?”

“He started it!” They both say at once. 

The Patola Mountain range is beautiful and imposing, but I can’t shake off the feeling that we are approaching to something… _strange_. Something _unknown_. The fog around the peaks is condensed in an uncommon way, as if it was some giant ghost shielding its own lost life. The area feels empty, but at the same time mysterious – as if the mountains were _purposely_ hiding something.

“There it is.” I look over Zuko’s shoulder at the sound of his voice. “The Southern Air Temple.”

“ _Whoaaaaaaa!_ ” Mine and Sokka’s voice turns into a flimsy breathe as we gape at the structure. It’s _beautiful_!

And a little intricate.

Like it was made to resemble more a labyrinth than a normal building – Or _buildings_ ; it’s divided in some minor huts distributed here and there, escalating gradually and circling around a large tower in the middle of the terrain.

I wonder how it would have been like to be here; climbing through those stairs _outside_ the tower and all.

“It’s amazing,” I whisper.

But its allure… it morphs the closer we get.

From afar, it’s a fantasy, a castle settled in the clouds; up close… it is a shell. Further emphasized by the worn out paint and walls. The more we approach, it turns from a castle to a simple abandoned building, to a vacant cavern. Druk lands fairly away from the great tower’s entrance, I think he’s shaking lightly. The boys and I pet him softly once we all jump from his back, even while our eyes remain glued to the temple. (I think we are _all_ shaking.)

It’s not even a cavern, the temple is a _ghost_ itself. It has no life, no warmth, not even memory; there’s not even the slightest trace – nor a feeling or energy – that there once was _anything_ alive near these walls. Their texture is like wrinkly, pale skin. Far colder and more terrifying than ice.

My shivers worsen the more I look at the doorway. It’s like a big, dark mouth absorbing the frosty air, and the weak remaining vitality around. It’s not that it inspires fear, only… soullessness. Like we were staring at a creature in the Yomotsu-kuni.

But despite it all, the Air Temple doesn’t _feel_ as an unclean spirit. 

“Are we sure we want to get in _there_?” Sokka questions.

“Yes.” Zuko’s answer is fast, just like his steps as he walks to the entry. “Druk don’t move from here.”

Druk agrees and lays down. I run and follow Zuko while Sokka stays behind studying the temple for a little longer.

There are statues of many airbenders in meditating poses framing the pathway. They’re also dilapidated for the snow and the elements, they don’t even resemble humans anymore.

I stare at one right in front of the entrance though, it is better-kept and with much fewer snow than the others. It’s another elderly man with shaved head and a long mustache, his airbender tattoos are noticeably carved. There’s something so peaceful about his expression, it looks like he was willingly sacrificing his energy to give it to the temple.

“Something wrong?” Zuko turns back to check on me observing the statue and Sokka finally catches up with us.

“No,” I say, “It’s just that… isn’t it a little odd that this statue is so well-kept in comparison to the others?”

Zuko shrugs. “Air Nomads were very close to the Spirits and believed they protected their culture.” He eyes the statue himself. “Maybe this is the Spirit’s way to show it.”

“Or the weather,” Sokka says, shrugging unimportantly. “It could also be because of the weather.”

I just hum.

“Let’s keep going.”

We finally get to the entryway, a small but strong flame appears over Zuko’s hand once we step in. Cautiously.

It’s so eerily quiet the dense silence crashes against the walls producing a weird kind of eco.

Until Sokka’s stomach decides to let himself be known.

“Sorry,” he says. “So… where do I get something to eat?”

I frown at him, placing my hands at my hips. “You're lucky enough to be one of the first outsiders to ever visit an airbender temple, and all you can think about is _food_?”

“I’m surprised he thinks _at all_ ,” Zuko comments.

Sokka shrugs. “I’m a simple guy, with simple needs.”

I don’t even finish rolling my eyes when I turn to keep walking in.

“Hey, you guys come see this.”

Zuko’s standing in front one of the walls, increasing his flame for it better illume a painting displayed all over the mural. (It’s _astonishing_ how vivid and bright the colors are in contrast with the rest of the temple!) The image’s a depiction of the Elemental Spirit of thunder, Haneul, displaying his powers with a great electric storm approaching a man who’s seemingly patiently awaiting for it to arrive, imperturbable. Clearly an Air Nomad for the way he’s dressed.

“ _Whoa!_ ” I gasp.

“I thought you said the Air Nomads were friends with the Spirits,” Sokka’s voice is unmoved even while his eyes roam appreciating the piece.

“And they were also capable of controlling the clouds and the wind,” Zuko reminisces. “Besides, Haneul is a warrior spirit and the Air Nomads were pacifists. Maybe this is their way of portraying their non-violence.”

“Zuko, can you light up _that_ wall too?” I point to it.

He complies, revealing an equally beautiful art of an Air Nomad meditating over a peaceful field in company of Lan, the Spirit of earth.

“And… that one?” I point to across the hallway.

The painting there is one of the Air Nomads raking the fields of Chun, the Spirit of agriculture.

I feel my smile stretching across my face. “C’mon! Let’s look for some more!”

My tapping resounds all the way up to the roof.

“They should have called themselves the _Art_ Nomads,” Sokka deadpans.

“Hey, look at this one,” I exclaim, a little breathlessly.

It’s a much greater painting, two times wider than the others, and it doesn’t has an airbender in it.

When Zuko and Sokka get to me, the three of us stare at it in silence, marveled. But also, pained.

The beautiful, dark-haired woman in the picture looks sad; her eyes are lost and broken like a porcelain doll’s. Her hair falls in pronounced but somber waves, like the ocean, carrying dozens of different Spirits between its strands. The man next to her stares lovingly, but there are tears in his eyes – the ones that carry some more Spirits.

“They are Barkha and Aroon,” Zuko announces after static, long silence. His voice is delicate, as if to not disrupt the atmosphere of power and loss the sole image creates. “The two Great Spirits that gave birth to the human world.”

“And repopulated the Spirit World,” I add, following the lines of Barkha’s hair.

“They look very sad,” Sokka observes.

“This must be a painting of _before_ Barkha died and went to the Yomi,” I muse.

The silence pierces us.

Zuko’s voice _scrapes_ us: “It was giving birth to a _fire_ spirit what killed Barkha, right? What made death and sorrow to be born as well.”

His eyes fixate blankly over the flame on his hand, as if there was nothing to see. Nothing _worthy_ of seeing.

“Why don’t we make a shrine?” I suggest.

“A shrine?” he repeats.

“Since nobody has presented offerings to the Spirits in here for a long time,” I recollect. “We could build a hokora. It would be small and under the protection of the temple.”

Sokka’s hand lands heavily on Zuko’s shoulder.

“Great idea, Katara!” (Did I mention that my brother is _real_ quick to catch up with stuff?) “I wouldn’t want some angry Spirits to feel disrespected and leave us to our own luck!”

*******

**Sokka**

“C’mon, Sokka, put some muscle on it.”

“Making him feel better is putting _me_ in a world of hurt,” I tell Katara while she spurs me like an ostrich-horse and I carry a friggin’ rock that’s half my size while she’s just picking tree branches like they were panda-lilies!

“We need the rocks for building the heiden,” she says, picking up another branch. “But I _do_ appreciate you helping me cheer him up.”

“Hey, he may be an idiot, but if we’re going to hang out together, then…”

She ruffles my hair (like _I_ am the younger sibling.) “Thank you, big brother.”

I huff. “Whatever.”

Zuko, The Grump is moping and waiting for us outside the Air Temple’s entry – (I’ll _never_ get over how much this place creeps me out!) – and he brought not only one, but _two_ rocks by himself! (Showoff.)

“Need some help with that, Sokka?”

Did I mention that I hate smugness? Because I _hate_ smugness!

(It just doesn’t count when _I’m_ the smug one.)

“Nope,” I say, lifting my rock higher. “I’m good.”

“That’s weird,” Katara butts in, “You just said you were in a world of hurt.”

_Spirits, woman! Where’s your loyalty?_

“Listen – both of you – I’m fine. Let’s just take this inside so we can find… whatever airbending stuff we came to look for.”

_Okay, here we go: One step… Then the other… One step… Then the other…_

“At that speed, you can be sure we won’t find it soon,” Zuko – The Grump – says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Avatar-ness, but I don’t see _you_ doing some high-speed earthbending.”

And just like that, he takes the friggin’ rock off from my arms and carries it like it was _nothing_. “It’s not necessary when at least _I_ can lift this.”

Katara laughs.

“Jerk!” I yell after his stupid, smirky face entering the temple with the equally stupid rock.

“I’ve told you to do more weightlifting,” Katara reminds me.

“I’m the man! I decide whatever I lift and what I don’t!”

“ _Ugh!_ ” She goes follow Zuko like a lost puppy. (They deserve each other!)

(And _I_ deserve a new set of dumbbells!)

Zuko carries up all the rocks to the painting of Aroon and Barkha, Katara takes out the water from her vial for us to wash and purify our hands. Zuko arranges the stones like a tiny house with walls and a roof, and an opening to serve as the heiden. Then we put Katara’s sprigs inside it – (it’s a luck there used to be sakaki trees around here) – along with a few coins.

The three of us stand up, bow and clap the kashiwade, closing our eyes to muster our kigans.

I pray for Aroon, the Spirit of life, to protect Katara, and Dad, and Gran-Gran, and everybody else that I care about. I pray to be strong enough to protect them myself.

**Katara**

I pray for strength so I can carry out my path as a waterbender.

**Zuko**

I pray for the strength to fulfill my destiny this time.

Whatever destiny is left for me to achieve – if I even have one at all as of now.

_I’m sorry, Barkha…_

_I’m sorry, Air Nomads…_

“Let’s keep going,” I say, once we finish our prayers.

It doesn’t matter how long we wander through the temple, how many holes we inspect, how many rocks we turn, there’s _nothing_! Nothing to use, nothing to learn, not even the smallest clue that there even were benders living in this place! It’s _empty_! (Just like my list of resources.)

“Guys, come check this out!”

Sokka and I follow Katara’s call down through the corridor.

She stands at the end of it, facing a giant door.

Looking down, I notice we are all standing on the floor with the national Air Nomad symbol largely and deeply inserted in it: the entwined air currents. It is enclosed by two square shapes that form some sort of sun together.

The door Katara found supports a grouping of metal pipes and three, rolled up tubes arranged like the symbol for airbending.

The walls were taken down on this part of the temple, the sunlight reflects on the metal.

“It’s the door to the Air Temple Sanctuary,” I say.

“ _Sanctuary_ sounds like kind of a big deal,” Sokka points out, “Maybe we kind find something useful in there… Like food!”

I sneer.

Sokka – thoughtless as he is – charges at the door… but he ends up smacking against it. Head first.

Clearly not learning his lesson, he tries pushing it with his back, his hands, his shoulder, his _other_ shoulder, his _head_ ; but the door won’t succumb.

“It doesn’t open,” he cries.

“How observing,” I mutter. “It needs _airbending_ to open.”

“Well, then what are you doing just standing there? Do some Avatar-y airbending… _something_ already!”

“I think we already established the reason why we came here in the first place is because I _don’t_ know how to airbend.”

“And how the hell was coming to a place where you need _airbending_ for opening doors going to fix that?”

Katara sighs. “Do _you_ have any ideas about how to fix this, boy genius?” she asks his way.

“Actually…,” he holds his chin meditatively, “I think that I _do_.”

His whistle nearly pops my eardrums. “Oh, Druk!”

***

“Alright, lil’ buddy. This is what we gonna do,” Sokka proceeds to explain his plan to _my_ dragon. “Zuko’s gonna make a smoke curtain with his firebending, and _you_ are gonna use those wings of yours to push it right into _those_ tubes! Do it at my sign, okay?”

Druk side-eyes me.

“Sorry, friend, but until either of us gets a better idea, he’s in charge.”

“Damn right!” Sokka celebrates. “Okay, Katara, let’s give Firey Boy some space.”

He yanks her by the arm to behind a pile of rubble, peeking their heads over it to watch me set a few more tree branches on fire.

Katara seems anxious, but as anticipation, not fear; she gives me an encouraging nod.

“Don’t breathe the smoke,” I indicate, covering my mouth and nose with my shirt’s neck.

Focusing on my palms and the twigs on the floor, I heat them both gradually, feeling my own skin – pores, blood, _atoms_ – warming up and picturing the wood slowly burning from the inside out.

_Blazing. Smoldering. Fire. Ashes._

It doesn’t take long before the smoke indeed rises and I apply more pressure on my control over the temperature, elevating it, for the smoke to come out quicker, thicker. It’s caging me…

Sokka shouts: “Druk, now!”

And Druk raises on his limbs, batting his wings strongly and throwing the dark clouds into the pipes. (It’s kind of like a tornado only that with a much stronger smell.) One of the curled tubes turns around, and the wind blows out like a horn. The other two tubes do the same and the door opens with a strong quiver.

“Huh,” I mutter. “Who could have known this would work?”

“ _I_ did,” Sokka smirks once he and Katara come closer to look inside.

“I know, that’s why I doubted it _would_.”

His eyes narrow at me.

“Boys, look!”

Katara’s voice makes us turn our heads again.

She’s already inside the sanctuary, and it’s visibly dark in it. The light coming from here circles around her like an aureole.

Sokka enters before I do.

It’s not that I’m scared to step inside! I just… I don’t know what is it that I’ll find in there.

*******

**Lu Ten**

Zhao’s ship is… nice, I suppose. Impersonal. Slightly… creepy. With pointy paraphernalia.

It fits him.

His crew is disciplined, however mediocre. Average bending, average hand-to-hand combat, average strategies. It is clear Zhao is the one keeping this boat afloat, but I wonder how long he will be able to hold the weight of an entire warship by himself. Not that I think he will complain. In fact, I think he will _enjoy_ it. He’ll make a float of Fire Nation soldier’s poor performance into an attention-seeking spectacle.

He’s not worthy of my thought, though.

And come to think of it, neither it is my father’s lack of drive.

That’s what I tell myself at least.

Gray grief settles upon me, I resent it.

I don’t _need_ grief. Royals don’t need grief. Soldiers don’t need grief, and whoever lets it to overcome them in war times is a fool. War does nothing but crush those who feel too strongly. Tear them apart and walk over their remains unceremoniously, erasing them.

*******

**Zuko**

“More statues?” Sokka does little to hide his bewilderment. “That’s it? Where’s the food?”

Katara and I ignore him and follow the chain of granite statues with our eyes.

They’re arranged in a circular shape, and climb all the way up the temple’s tower, from the ground to the roof. We can’t see where the display ends so high it is.

“I wonder who they are,” Katara says.

“I’m not sure,” I admit, “but they seem familiar.”

My steps echo through the Sanctuary as I approach. “This one is a firebender.”

I know it for the headpiece he’s wearing.

Katara comes to inspect it herself. Then looks at the statue next to it. “And he’s next to an airbender.”

And they are both erect next to a waterbender and earthbender, respectively.

“Zuko, they’re lined up in a pattern,” she states, proceeding to point at each as she announces them: “Fire, Air, Water, Earth.”

My eyes widen. “That’s the Avatar Cycle.”

“Exactly!” Katara lights up. “They’re _Avatars_! This are _all_ of your past lives!”

_My past lives…_

My eyes climb again through queue of statues, trying to find the end of it even when I already know I can’t from here. The sunlight coming through the opening at the roof blinds me.

_They’re so many…_

It’s overwhelming, but somehow… not unwelcome.

For once, I feel like… it feels… like… I’m not completely alone.

I continue walking, examining the rest of the sculptures.

“Past lives?” Sokka skeptical voice also echoes through the room. “Katara, you really believe in that stuff?”

“It’s _true_ ,” she emphasizes, “When Avatars die, they’re reincarnated in the next nation in the cycle.”

I count the statues as I pass by. An airbender woman, a Water Tribe man, an Earth Kingdom…

_Zuko._

I halt.

My name… it didn’t sound – I didn’t _hear_ it – it just… _snapped_ inside my head.

Something’s pulling me to come back to the sculptures I left behind.

Not aggressively; whatever it is, it feels like a familiar grip. And a sort of familiar knowledge. As though I’ve been here before. As though I _want_ to be here.

I turn back to face the sculpture of the Earth Kingdom lady I passed. Her clothes are a little uncharacteristic of her nation, but the garnets she’s wearing have its state symbol.

She’s beautiful, and looks strikingly young. Perhaps it is for the clear mask of makeup she’s wearing as well.

_Zuko._

It’s her – her _voice_.

_“Yes?”_

_“Such a pleasure to meet you, kid! I’m the Avatar Kyoshi. I get the feeling you and I are going to get along just fine.”_

“Zuko! Snap out of it!” Katara’s hand lands on my shoulder.

I nearly fall back, dizzy.

“Huh?”

“You looked like you were hypnotized,” Sokka explains.

“Oh…” My hand reaches for my head. My mind is… fuzzy. “Sorry.”

“Who’s that?” Katara asks, looking straight at the statue.

“That’s the Avatar Kyoshi,” I say, smiling due to a sudden thrill. “The Avatar before me.”

Sokka snorts. “You were a _girl_?”

“And what’s wrong with _that_?” Katara bites out, glaring.

“Nothing, nothing,” her brother shrugs nonchalantly. “At least if one day I find him hyping over _lipstick shades_ , then I’ll know from who he inherited it.”

Katara’s eyes sharpen, but she drops the argument to continue staring at Kyoshi.

“There’s no writing,” she notices, turning to me. “How do you know her name?”

When my mouth opens, no answer comes out. I can’t muster one, my brain is still cloudy. Foggy.

Blind.

“I…” My thoughts are plain black. “I don’t _know_ it…”

*******

**Lu Ten**

It’s not difficult to avoid my father in such a humungous ship. (The day has arrived that Zhao’s superiority complex came to my favor.)

Or it would, if my father wasn’t sneaky enough to find me each time.

“Son, you’re making a mistake.”

“More of a mistake than renouncing to a prosperous military career, dragging your own son to the mud with you and then leave him without his right to the throne?”

His sigh doesn’t touch me at all. “I’ve told you I had my reasons to do what I did.”

“Then why don’t you tell them to me?” I explode, spinning to face him. “Why are you not telling me what made you ruin _both_ our lives and bring dishonor to our name?”

“Lu Ten,” my name is a breath in his voice, “I need to trust me on this. When have I ever lied to you?”

“It’s not about lying,” I counter, “It’s about keeping me in the dark! What are you not telling me, father? I’ve been nothing but loyal to you ever since the day I was born, and you repay me by _distrusting_ me?”

“I could _never_ distrust you.”

“For the looks of it, you _already_ are!”

“Lu Ten…” His hand comes my way.

I step back. “No! Don’t touch me, don’t play the pity card! I’m not some gullible kid anymore, I’ve changed! And I’ll restore my honor by myself. _My_ honor alone. You do whatever you want as long as you stay the hell out of my way this time.”

“Lu Ten, Zhao is _using_ you!”

“You think I don’t already know that?”

_For Aroon’s sake, how stupid does he think I am?_

“You seriously believe I can’t pick a megalomaniac from a crowd? I _am_ manipulating Zhao! He’s going to put the Avatar in a silver platter right before me, and I _know_ he thinks I’ll just stand back while he takes the precious credit for himself. But, guess what? He – just like _you_ – is _wrong_!”

His eyes – _my_ eyes – turn into shattered crystal, amber irises drained of all light and glow. The whiteness of his face accentuates his wrinkles, making his skin look slacker, poorly nourished. He’s not scared, he’s repulsed… by _me_.

*****  
Zuko**

“Well, aside from a very refined art exposition… there’s nothing in here.” Sokka’s fingers continue picking pieces of flourishing grass as we sit outside the Southern Air Temple.

My gaze rises to the sky, looking at the clouds flowing. (If the Air Nomads turned into Spirits, this would be a good time for them to manifest themselves and give me some kind of airbending sign.)

“Don’t give up hope, guys,” Katara – ever the optimist – intercedes. “There are still many Air Temples to visit.”

“Sure,” I say, “ _all_ distributed around the world. It will take _ages_ to get to them all.”

I can hear the pout in her voice. “We could…”

Sokka cuts her off, “Look, let’s just finally go find something to eat. We need to get the hell out of here, this place is creepy.”

Without further announcing, he stands up, searching for Druk.

I stand too, but turn to the Air Temple once more. I’ve deciphered what this place is; a gravestone.

A tomb. An abandoned, forgotten one.

Forgotten like me, abandoned _by_ me.

 _I’m_ responsible for this aura of burden and torment. An entire mountain dead because I was simply weak, a failure. A weak man with weak soul. Weak _fire_.

Unworthy.

I wasn’t worthy of being a hero for the Air Nomads, that’s why I failed them. I wasn’t worthy of being a prince or a ruler either. Nor of being a son. I wasn’t – never have been – _anything_.

“What are you thinking about?” Katara approaches me at the entrance. Her eyes are melting snow. Serene and transparent, but with a share of cold.

“Just wondering how this place must have been when the Air Nomads lived.”

“It must have been beautiful,” she says, blue eyes wandering over the entrance’s frame.

“Yes,” I agree; convoke another flame to ablaze over my hand.

It does not dissipates the unfeeling coldness.

“The story about Barkha is true too, you know?” I ponder.

“What?”

“When Barkha gave birth to Agni, the Elemental Fire Spirit, she was gravely injured and died. It was her death what unleashed death for humans alike, and Aroon’s grief for his wife what created sadness and despair. Agni and his fire were the catalyst for impurity and evilness to enter the human world.”

The wind is hard and silent. I extinguish the flame in my hand, turn to look at Katara in the eye.

“You should stop trying to get close to me.”

She merely gazes at me for a brief second; her eyes are now made of pure, flowing water. She takes a step closer to me then, nearly brushing my chin, her breath is hot, almost burning against it.

“Why not?”

Something ruffles in the snow.

“Did you hear something?” I ask.

“Actually, yes.” Her eyebrows raise.

“Hey, what’s taking you guys so long?” Sokka climbs the stairs to where we are standing.

“Shhh!” I press a finger to my lips. “Katara and I just heard something.”

His eyes broaden speedily, just as his head glances at each his sides. “What was it?”

“We’re not sure,” Katara says.

“Somebody could have followed us here,” her brother presses.

“You two stay here while I go look,” I say.

“And leaving all the glory to you? No way!”

I can’t waste my focus on sneering at Sokka now, so I’ll leave it for later. He takes out his club, ready to charge as we walk over to the monticules from where the noise came from.

Katara is close behind us, too. (Does everybody in their family jumps head to the danger like that or what?)

“It probably is a firebender,” Sokka says. “Nobody make a sound!”

“ _You_ are making a sound,” I point out.

He hushes me with his finger to his mouth. “ _Shhhhhhhhh!_ ”

Once we get to the monticules, we find…

“A lemur?”

Sokka drools. “ _Food!_ ”

And as quick as lightning, a hurricane-like current of air shoots us away to crash against the ground and the rocks.

“ _What the actual hell?_ ” My back and skull hurt for the smash, Sokka is growling in the snow, thank Spirits Katara was far enough behind to not fall with us.

“Boys!”

She kneels next to us as Sokka coughs snow and I rub the back of my head.

Another wind stream, thinner and straighter, tornado-like, appears before our eyes, coursing through the spot from where it launched us, seemingly sucking up the lemur and then fleeing.

“What the hell is that?”

“Let’s go find out,” I bolt to follow it.

“Zuko, wait! It could be dangerous!”

I keep running despite Katara’s calls.

The strange mass of wind and dust and clouds moves fluently, swiftly, like… well… _wind_. It’s kind of like a small blizzard-tornado all in one: messy, dark, compressed, carrying stuff that it finds along the way.

_Damn it, I can’t catch it!_

I was serious when I said it runs like the wind!

And now it’s speeding down through the mountains borders.

I cast a large and concentrated fire jet; it glows blindingly golden with fierce red. Once I form it, I jump on top of it and skate through the mountain, following the damn thing – which is doing quite a good job trying to avoid me. It directs itself expertly through the most rocky, tricky roads and sharp cliffs. (How the fuck can it keep itself glued to the mountain all the goddamn time?)

The farther we get – closer to the foot of the mount – the harder it is for me to see, the sand and the dirt cloud my vision and itch my eyes. At this rate I’ll end up losing its track. _Unless…_

I drive my fire to curve to the right, hustling it and surfing through what is left of the mountain until I arrive at the forest.

Soon enough the godawful thing gets to my line of sight. I tackle it.

It was a _person_ all along! As soon as I tackle him, the massive cloud fades. However, I don’t have time to make out his features properly.

Our little persecution just turned into a chaotic tussle, rolling and grunting through ground and trying to push the other away. (More specifically, _he_ is trying to push me away, _I’m_ trying to keep him captured.)

“Let me go!” he squeals once I pin him to the ground.

“Zuko!” Katara and Sokka land Druk next to us.

“What the – ? You’re just a _kid_!” I yell.

“I’m fourteen!” he wails.

It would look more mature if he wasn’t pouting like goddamn baby!

“Zuko, what is wrong with you? Let him go already!”

Katara takes my shoulders to push me off of him, and proceeds to apologize profusely to the stupid child. I’m a little busy shaking off the sand he sprinkled over me and catching the breath that I lost for following him across a fucking mountain!

“I’m so sorry, my friend didn’t mean to do that,” she kneels in front of him. “I’m so very sorry… uh… What’s your name?”

The winged lemur we saw earlier planes over to sit on his lap. The kid hugs him close to his chest.

“Aang,” he says. “My name is Aang.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia
> 
> For expanding the worldbuilding, I focused on the subject of religion in the Avatar World, relating the already existing lore and then inspiring myself in East Asian religions. In this chapter, Zuko, Katara, and Sokka make several references to Shinto, a polytheistic indigenous Japanese religion. According to that, the following term refer to:
> 
> Yomotsu-kuni: Shintoist texts describe multiple realms in Shinto cosmology: The Plain of High Heaven (Takama-no-hara), where the kami (gods) live; the Phenomenal or Manifested World (Utsushi-yo), where humans dwell; and the Nether World (Yomotsu-kuni), where unclean spirits reside.
> 
> Aroon and Barkha: They’re inspired in Izanagi-no-Mikoto and Izanami-no-Mikoto, respectively; the first man and woman who gave birth to Earth and the kamis in it. Following the story, Izanagi and Izami were a couple of spouses as well as siblings, they populated the world with the different kami. Izanami died giving birth to a fire kami causing Izanagi to be stricken by grief and attempt to retrieve her from the Yomi (the Underworld). There, he found her body in a rotten state instead. Repulsed by her impurity, he rejected her. Enraged, Izanami chased after him until Izanagi locked her inside the Yomi and she became the goddess of the Dead. The name Aroon is from Thai origin while Barkha is from India, they mean “dawn” and “rain” respectively.
> 
> Yomi: The Underworld. 
> 
> Hokora: Small shrines found on larger shrines and dedicated to folk kami, or on a street side, treasuring kami not under the authority of any large shrine. They are usually considered as Shintoist, but they are every so often decorated with a swastika which in Japan is a symbol linked to Buddhism. 
> 
> Heiden: Also called hall of offerings. The space in the shrines where offers and prayers are presented so the kami can enter the human world.
> 
> Sakaki tree branches: A common offering.
> 
> Kashiwade: The act of bowing and clapping in front of the shrine.
> 
> Kigan: Prayer.
> 
> Edit:
> 
> Haneul: It’s inspired in Raijin, the elemental kami of lightning, thunder and storms. The Haneul is from Korean origin and it means “sky”.
> 
> Lan: Inspired by the elemental kami of earth, Sarutahiko Okami. “Lan” means “orchid, elegant” or “mountain mist” depending on the Chinese characters with which the name is formed. As a Vietnamese name, it means “orchid”.
> 
> Chun: Inspired by Inari Okami, the god of rice and agriculture. “Chun” means “spring” (the season) in Chinese.
> 
> Agni: Inspired by Kagutsuchi, the fire kami that caused Izanami’s death. “Agni” literally means “fire” in Sankskrit and is the name of the Hindu fire god.
> 
> Edit:  
> Thanks to everyone for your super kind comments and words and for your interest in the story!! 💖🤗💖🤗💖🤗💖🤗 And I know asking for favors is not a very good way of thanking, but I'm currently in times of need. I haven't been shy about the fact that I'm Venezuelan and neither about how difficult times are here in my country, my mother and I are going through a crisis, we almost don't have any more food nor hygiene products or medicines. Normally, I wouldn't do this, but I promised her I would ask the people I know if they could help us out, so now I'm asking you guys. Please, see the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com


	12. Chapter十一: We lied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys 👋😃 Sorry for the late deliver! 🙀 And I'm sorry to say that scheduled electricity cuts are back here in Venezuela, so the energy is being taken away for 6 to 7 hours each day, so I'll probably have to write and deliver much slower than usual. Venezuela is currently going through a great crisis and my mother and I are suffering because of it, if you want to find out ways to help me to keep writing, please visit the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com
> 
> On a happier note, everything from here in the story is completely original with only some minor canon aspects, I made several major worldbuilding changes out of respect for the East Asian fans who were outraged at the racism within the OG series. I was REAL serious when I tagged "This isn't going to go the way you think" 😅

**Zuko**

“Aang. My name is Aang.” The winged lemur croaks in his arms. “And this is Momo.”

“Nice to meet you, Aang and Momo,” Katara smiles.

I fight the need to roll my eyes.

“I’m Katara,” she continues. “This is my brother, Sokka,” she gestures to him, and me next, “And our friend, Zuko.”

The _stupid child_ – (Aang) – studies Sokka and me flanking Katara’s sides; neither of us is exactly happy with him at the moment. (Huh. Turns out you just need an airbender to get us to agree on something.)

_Wait a minute…_

“You’re an Air Nomad,” I say, more or less without intending to. My eyes practically swallow the sight of his arrow tattoos coursing through his head and hands.

He stands from the ground, (his tattoos show further through his wrists and forearms with the tussling of his sleeves.) “A monk, actually,” he answers. “Or at least I’ll be soon.”

I scoff. “Not _that_ soon. You _are_ just a kid.”

He shrugs innocently. “Well, you’re just a teenager.”

I glower at him. And then at Sokka laughing.

He’s quick to correct himself: “Not funny,” shaking his head for extra believability.

“We’re very sorry we scared you, Aang,” Katara gets to her feet next.

“ _We_ scared him?” I almost choke on disbelief. “ _He’s_ the one that _hurricaned_ us to a tree!”

“For once I’m on The Grump’s side.”

“I’m sorry!” Aang whines. “It’s just that I heard when you called Momo food and…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Katara excuses him indulgently.

“It _does_ matter!” I emphasize.

She turns to me, hissing, “Zuko, he’s _just_ a _kid_!”

“Which reminds me…” I look at Aang, “How are _you_ even _here_? Aren’t Air Nomads extinct since… a hundred years ago?”

Awareness and shock light Katara’s face as she returns to stare at Aang.

“You seem pretty young for that,” I add.

Aang’s only response is to become wide-eyed. “Ah…”

Why does Druk has to pick up _this_ moment to come closer?

“How is your _dragon_ even here?” Aang retorts. “Aren’t _they_ extinct since a hundred years ago?”

“Clever boy,” Sokka muses.

 _Annoying boy_ , I think _._

“I don’t have time for this!” I yell. “Let’s go!”

“Zuko, wait!” Katara pulls at my arm before I can fully turn. “Don’t you see the opportunity we have here? _He_ could train _you_!”

“Are you joking?” She’s _officially_ gone too far! “ _I_ need _more_ than some preschooler level airbending!”

“He was good enough to throw you off balance,” Sokka points out.

“He was good enough to throw _you_ off _yours_ , not that _that’s_ very difficult!”

“ _He_ has a name,” Katara intercedes.

“And _he_ can hear you,” Aang concludes. “What’s that that you’re talking about training?”

“Nothing!” I say. “Forget it! Go home get ready for your nap or something!”

“My, Zuko, you _really_ have a gift with kids,” Sokka mocks.

Katara isn’t done trying to persuade me, “Zuko…”

And Sokka’s stomach announces itself once more.

“Are you…” Aang starts, “hungry?”

“Uh… I’m afraid we were kind of in a hurry this morning, so my brother missed breakfast.”

“Air Nomads never turn away a hungry guest,” Aang replies. We can see his eyes sparkling to the fullest for how broad they are. “Follow me. I know where to find you some food.”

“You heard the little guy, troop!” Sokka is quick to march behind him.

Katara and I stay behind watching the bizarre pair that they make. She glances at me one last time, still holding to my arm, then yanks at it for me to follow.

I do.

*******

“What _is_ that thing?”

I answer boringly at Sokka’s screech, “It’s a flying bison.”

“It’s _my_ flying bison,” Aang clarifies smiley, running to the massive, horned ball of fur. “Look, Appa! I brought new friends!”

“Flying bison?” Sokka parrots. “Right. And this is Katara, my flying sister.”

She smacks him in the arm.

The overgrown fuzz approaches us. (If you’ve never seen a flying bison, they kind of resemble an oversized bull/yak/ _mop_ with an insanely big and damp nose that _this_ particular one uses to _inhale_ us, before freaking _licking_ me with its even larger and wetter tongue.) (And right when I think the worst has already happened to me.)

“He likes you!” Aang cheers.

“What an honor,” I deadpan, brushing away the slobber from my face.

Druk comes from behind us, growling at the bison and curling himself around me.

“By the way, this is my dragon, Druk.” I pet him on the side of his jaw. “He’s territorial.”

He continues at a growling contest with Aang’s bison, the one who apparently isn’t fond of Druk either. Both are fiercely baring their teeth.

“Don’t be like that, pal.” I comfort him further and he leaves his stance to rub his head against me, “How could I _ever_ interchange you?”

“ _Awww!_ The love of a boy for his overweighed lizard!” ( _Why does Sokka has to ruin everything?_ )

“Let’s better get going. We need to fly to get the place where I want to take you.” Aang jumps, and with his sole fist and a spin in the air he shoots himself to Appa’s back. Momo follows. “Don’t worry, Appa’s the best transport around!”

Druk complains.

“He just says that because he hasn’t seen you fly,” I assure him.

“Are you saying your dragon flies better than _my_ bison?”

“Yes,” I remark, already settling on Druk’s back, “That’s what I am saying.”

He _harrumps_ narrowing his eyes at me. (With the almost white light of the sun covered by the clouds, I can discern their shade of gray a bit better. Darker than the cloudy sky, but lighter than the frozen rock mountains.)

“Cool, a race between obnoxious benders,” Sokka climbs Druk next.

“Katara, you’re not coming?” I say.

She looks at me, and then at Aang. “Actually, I think I’ll be riding in Appa for this one.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“You will?” Aang’s eyes light up yet again; in fact, his whole pose is like somebody just handed him the biggest of the gifts.

“I just think it’ll be fun to get to know our new friends a little better,” Katara says already getting closer to the bushy thing with more knots than hair.

“It’ll be the _most_ fun if you come with us! Stay right where you are.”

Aang twists and raises his arms to create a tornado/cannon that lifts Katara to land on Appa’s back as well. She giggles.

“Buckle up!” Aang takes Appa’s strings. “Appa, yip yip!”

And without further announcement they raise and fly away.

I stay glaring at their backs.

Sokka’s grinning over my shoulder.

“What the hell are you smiling about?” I snarl.

His smirk becomes more pronounced the more he returns my stare. “Oh, you _know_ what I’m smiling about.”

**Aang**

New friends, new friends, _new friends_! I can’t believe I’m coming back home with new friends! Whenever I go to the Temple, I always return kind of sad. Not only because I never got to meet the Temple when the ancient monks were around, but also because everything in there feels so… frozen. (Not for the snow.) I know the anicca[1] explains everything is ephemeral, and I’m afraid of falling into the avijjā[2] and further into the dukkha[3] by thinking how there should be… or at least it would be nice if there was… a trace of Air Nomad… essence in there… but…

“Is something wrong, Aang?” Katara asks above the sound of the wind.

“Nope!” I smile. “Everything is fine!”

Zuko, Sokka and Druk fly close behind us and I guide them away from the Patola Mountain range, through the Tanggula Mountains[4] then and past the Yangtze River[5]. Everything beneath us looks as if the Spirits had drawn a very curvy map over the earth.

“This view is amazing,” Katara says.

“I know. This is the _most_ beautiful place in the world.”

I always wonder if one day we will have to move again. And I know I shouldn’t think about it, but if we do, I’m going to miss this place.

I shake my head. _No craving, no clinging, no craving, no clinging_. [6]

“You sure everything is fine?”

“Yup! Totally!”

I land the guys on a hill a bit away from where our camp is settled, (enough for nobody to see a huge red dragon.)

“You stay here while I go look for the food,” I tell them. “We’re not allowed to bring foreigners.”

“‘We’?” Zuko asks.

“Ah… I’ll see you later! Appa, stay here to take care of our guests!”

Bless be airbending for letting me run away with a very fast airball!

Momo comes behind me.

It looks like Gyatso, Tashi, and Pasang haven’t returned from their meditation. _Awesome!_

“Aang, where were you?”

“Nowhere. Is there any food left?” I run to the storage tents. “Oh, and where are the khatas[7]? And the dzabija cups[8]? Or better, the silver ones[9]! And did the elders make Chhaang[10] today?”

**Zuko**

“You don’t think he will abandon us here, right?”

Katara’s bewildered: “Sokka! How could you believe such a thing?”

“Yeah, Sokka,” I say, lounging on Druk’s tail, “He even left his bison with us as a warranty.”

Said bison roars as though agreeing.

“It’s not about warranties,” Katara argues, “Aang just has a good heart.”

“Really?” I push myself up. “When did you find out, during the… what? Twenty minutes we spent flying?”

Her answer is clipped: “I can tell it.”

“You’re too trusting,” I counter.

Sokka’s the one to indirectly tell me to shut up, (rightfully so.) “Yeah, I think that’s the reason why _we_ even _are_ here.”

I tsk.

“I’m back!” Aang walks up the hill where the three of us sit. He’s carrying a great, clearly stuffed sac that tinkles with each of his steps. “Sorry about the late, I couldn’t find the correct cups.”

It’s all gust of airbending after that: He throws the sac in the air like it weighed nothing; pots, cups, and porcelain plates float in the air seemingly reaching for the ground in slow motion as he shapes a tornado with his legs. His wind raises two rocks and jets them to settle right in front of Katara, Sokka, and me; one on top of the other, oddly enough forming somewhat of a table. The cloth of the sac finally falls, twisted inside out, and even more oddly serving as a colorful tablecloth with a vibrant pattern of classic Air Nomad orange and yellow. The pots and teacups fall squarely on their feet in calculated corners of the improvised surface to be close enough for each of our reaches.

Silk white khatas now rest around our shoulders.

Aang bows our way, “For you.”

“What was it that you were saying about preschooler level airbending, Zuko?” ( _Of course,_ Katara picks up _this_ time to throw that in my face.)

I just side-eye her.

Aang holds the teapot in an offering manner.

“Bring that on – ”

I smack Sokka in the arm, “We’re supposed to decline first!” [11]

“Really?” Katara’s eyes grow in surprise.

“ _Yes!_ ” Spirits, their manners are _disastrous_!

The two of them follow my example for the rest of the customary serving as Aang pours the tea.

After that, “Chhaang, Zuko?”

I consider it. “Yes, please.”

Katara and Sokka accept the Chhaang, too, and I watch as Aang’s smile turn just the slightest flashier as he serves Katara. [12] (Now I _do_ roll my eyes.)

“You sure you want to drink that, Sokka?” I ask, respiring the hot steam of my cup, “The alcohol could hit you badly in your empty stomach.”

Katara’s the most impressed by this new piece of information, “This _has_ alcohol?”

“It’s sort of a beer, but it almost doesn’t have any,” Aang explains, “I thought you guys would like it.”

“It’s okay, little guy,” Sokka reassures him, “My stomach’s an iron fortress!”

(Somehow I find _that_ rather difficult to believe.) 

At least the Chhaang _does_ something to lessen the cold weather. The liquor doesn’t burn my throat but melts my insides, turns me into a growing bonfire; it reminds me of when my mother read stories to me and Azulon in front of the chimney. Makes me feel safe.

And also, sad.

“It tastes really good,” Katara whispers absently after taking her own sip. Judging by her voice, she also fell under the effects of the drink.

Aang holds open one of the containers to me, “Cheser Mog, Zuko?” [13] [14]

I shake my head.

“Laping?”[15]

I decline again.

“Gyabrag?”[16]

I stare at the pancake.

Then shrug, “Yes, please.”

“Don’t you have something with meat around there?” Sokka scrutinizes the pots even before Aang gets the chance to serve him. (Katara decided to have Gyabrag like me.)

“We’re vegetarians,” the kid replies.

“Okay, we’re leaving.”

I’m the one to hold back the Water Tribe oaf before he gets to get away.

“You keep saying ‘ _we’_ ,” I say to Aang, pulling Sokka down by his hood, “Mind if I ask who you mean? I was told,” I glance as fixedly at Katara and Sokka as I can muster through the corner of my eye, “that airbenders were _extinct_.”

(Their answer is to shake their heads profusely with matching expressions of incredulity, and shrug in surrender.)

Aang’s gray gaze falls. His skinny shoulders hunch. Despite what it looks like, his posture does not irradiate defeat, only sadness. (Well, that’s _one_ thing we have in common so far.) He mirrors us sitting cross-legged at the other side of the devised table, his winged lemur Momo planes over and comes to his arms, solicitous. Aang squashes him yet again.

“You guys know how to keep a secret?”

(It’s creepy the way the three of us answer at the same time.) “Yes.”

(I believe he notices, too, but decides to let it go.) “When the Air Nomad massacre occurred,” he starts, his skin turns even ashier gray than his eyes, “the Temples were evacuated. The senior monks had visions granted by the Spirits about what was coming, and tried sending everyone away before the Fire Nation arrived.”

He looks at me – at my red clothes with the Fire Nation emblem. I feel nauseous.

“Not everyone could escape, but some could. They were few, but enough to continue the Air Nomad bloodline. Ever since then, we have done what our name suggests: move around. Make camps here and there. Hidden from the rest of the world. We know what the Fire Nation would do to us if they believed the Avatar is among us.”

I turn away, hard.

Katara’s hand comes to my tensed shoulder, but I ignore it in favor of my nails digging in my palms. It hurts. I can almost – _almost_ – feel the warmth and wetness of the blood.

_Blood._

“We’re very sorry, Aang,” she says.

“It’s okay.” His voice is light but quickly turns urgent, “and it’s no offense, Zuko. The monks believe in forgiveness, and to not being held back by grudges, and our karma…”

“Aang,” I halt him. “It’s okay.”

One of my hands stroke the silk around my neck.

“But do you mind taking this away?” I ask, already pulling it off of me. (Not nastily.) (I’m not _that_ cruel.)

“Why?” his eyes are apprehensive as he takes it in his hands. “Is something wrong with it?”

“Cultural clash,” I indicate. “In the Fire Nation, white is the color of death.”

“Oh, my!” His mouth turns agape. “I’m so sorry! I’m such a horrible host!”

“No, you’re not,” I say, weary. “You just didn’t know. You’re an excellent host.”

“Absolutely, Aang!” Katara remarks. “The lunch was wonderful!”

“Yeah, kid” – it’s somewhat hard to understand Sokka with his mouth stuffed with Chetang Goiche[17] – “Not bad for a vegetarian.”

Aang squeals. “ _Yay!_ I’m going to tell Monk Gyatso I hosted a meal _all_ by myself!”

“Who’s Gyatso?”

“The greatest airbender in the world! He took the name after one of the ancient monks whose statues are at the Temple. The one that almost doesn’t have any snow?”

“How do you know about that?” Katara’s eyebrow arches.

“I’m the one that goes to take the snow off from it.”

“Oh!” Realization washes over her face.

“We have also prohibited go visit the Temple, because it’s too much reminiscing of old airbender ways. If somebody was to look for us, they would definitely do so at the Temple, but…” his eyes get lost into dreaminess “I always wanted to know what it was like when Air Nomads still lived there.” A pause. “By the way, what were you guys even doing there?”

It’s our turn to vacillate:

“We… uh…”

“Um…”

“We were kinda…”

“Aang!”

He gasps at the sound of his name. “Oh, no! Guys, you gotta hide!”

“Where?”

He makes a blast of wind to take the snow off from the ground and bury us with it. I sneeze.

“ _Shhh!_ ”

_How dares that brat to_ shhh _me!_

At least the snow is not thick enough to completely block the sight of what’s happening outside. Two boys around Aang’s age approach him.

“What are you doing here?”

Even with the limited vision, I can tell how tense his back is. “Nothing, just…” Appa roars, “playing with Appa! And Momo.”

“And what is all that food for?”

“We… wanted to have a meal!”

“With the _silver_ teacups?”

“An _elegant_ meal!”

“You’ve been acting weird since you came back. And where were you anyway?”

“I already told you: nowhere.”

“We’re telling the monks if you went to the Temple again,” they threaten smugly, “They won’t let you stay in the monastery if they know you’ve been disobeying.”

I frown, my palms heat.

“I haven’t!” Aang’s voice wavers. “I haven’t been going anywhere. Or doing anything. I was just… going for a walk and then… I got hungry. And Appa and Momo got hungry, too!”

“Whatever you say.”

“If our parents ask, tell them we went to play with our air scooters.”

“You guys are going to play a new game?” Aang’s tone swiftly turns hopeful and admiring, “Can I play, too?”

The other kids are just as quick to turn him down though. “I don’t know, man. Since you’re a monk apprentice and a master airbender… it’s kind of an unfair advantage for whichever team you’re on.”

“But I don’t…”

“It’s the only fair way.”

“Oh,” he’s crestfallen, “okay.”

“Sorry, Aang.”

The kids exit, and unsurprisingly Katara claws her way out of the snow like she was a blizzard herself, her steps dig firmly into the ground as she goes to Aang’s side just to throw a snowball their way. (It doesn’t hit but still.)

“Such jerks!” she complains.

I follow out of our ‘ _hideout’_.

“Why didn’t they have clothes like yours?” I wonder, shaking off the snow from my coat. “And they didn’t have arrow tattoos or shaved heads.”

Aang’s eyes don’t leave the ground not even for answering. “Not all Air Nomads are monks. I am an apprentice because I was raised by them, but if I weren’t, I would probably be just a common airbender like those boys.”

“Why were you raised by monks?” Katara inquires. “Where are your parents?”

“I’m an orphan,” he says, “My parents died.”

My eyes dart to Katara and Sokka over the top of his head. Her hands fly to cover her mouth, he’s physically cringing as if somebody had ripped something off of his skin.

I rub the back of my neck. “So… um…” _Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it!_ “What was it that you were talking about air scooters?”

_I said it._

“That’s an airbending game.”

“Is there anything non airbenders can play, too?”

_Somebody just gag me already!_

His eyes raise to meet mine, glowing and cheerful. “You want to play something with me?”

“Yeah, you want?” Sokka’s just skeptical.

(To be fair, so is Katara.)

“Yes,” I emphasize, (to _all_ of them.)

***

“Are you sure that Chhaang didn’t get you drunk? Or maybe it was being under the snow for too long. Do you have a fever or something?”

Sokka has the _audacity_ to touch my forehead.

I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Well, you’re still pretty much yourself,” he observes, “even with all the out-of-habit niceness and all.”

I look away.

“I think what you’re doing is real sweet, Zuko.”

Katara’s looking at me a little like Aang did this afternoon, with admiration and sunniness, but also something else. Something like truth. Like she _knew_ I would be this kind of person.

I turn away from her, too.

Aang told us to wait nearby his village up until the night fell, so he could sneak us in to the airball stadium (like he called it.) The night is lit, even with the mountains covering the area, but it’s not illuminated by the stars or the moon. Maybe by their reflection in the snow, but it almost seems like the ice irradiated whitish light of its own, projecting it around.

The sky is clean, with nearly imperceptible twinkles of stars. Katara and Sokka stare at it like they’ve just never seen something so vast before.

“It’s strange to see the night at this time of the year.”

“Guys!”

Aang whispers and tip-toes his way to us even though we’re still away from the village. He’s smiling too. “Everybody is asleep already. C’mon, follow me.”

Perhaps ‘ _village’_ is too much of a stretch to call this place. It’s more or so of a camp, the tents are colorful just like the tablecloth Aang brought us for lunch and raised in a messy arrange. I wonder where the monks sleep; Air Nomads don’t believe in governments or hierarchies, nobody is better than nobody. Nobody possesses more opulence than nobody. Furthermore, opulence – or rather, the attachment to it – is an obstacle to achieving true enlightenment. But the monks serve as their guides and advisors. It’s hard for me, to imagine them so intermixed with the rest of their crowd. 

The Fire Sages told me I would come here – not to the Southern Air Temple in specific, but the culture – and mix myself with it to achieve airbending dominance.

That was when I was sixteen. My father never let me come.

A dark, tight, but revealing feeling crushes my stomach and climbs my throat like a rough fist tearing me from the inside out. He attacked the Air Temples not only because of the Air Nomads pacifist ways, but because he _knew_ the order of the Avatar Cycle.

He wanted to _exterminate_ me… to make sure I was _never_ reborn.

My fingers reach for my scar… but before they can properly register the cool flesh, Aang’s winged lemur comes to rest on my shoulder.

“Momo likes you, too, Zuko.”

“By the way, Aang,” Katara intercedes, “where’s Appa?”

“In the bison stables!” he answers cheerfully. “Even _he_ needs some rest!”

“We could get a spare bison,” Sokka ponders, “Just in case Druk ever gets fed up with us again.”

“You guys seem like you have traveled from far away.”

“From the South Pole,” Katara specifies.

“Oh, so you’re from the Southern Water Tribe,” Aang realizes, “What were you doing there, Zuko?”

I glance at Sokka and Katara; they both look back at me with hooded blue eyes each. (I don’t know what I was expecting from them, maybe confirmation?) (Maybe approval, so I could tell the kid what he’s getting himself into.) I don’t find any of it. Sokka is the one to give me a slight shake of head.

“I was on a trip,” I say, “and got caught in a storm. Katara and Sokka found me.”

“Oh! You were very lucky then!” His smile is directed at Katara.

“Yeah.”

“Stay here while I go look for the ball!”

We effectively stay, watching him all but tapping in his way out. He looks so frail. (Figures. He’s a _child_.) (One that we are dragging to only who knows what suicidal mission.) I sigh.

Katara is the one to ask: “Should we tell him?”

“We still don’t know if he’s trustworthy,” Sokka says, “He could sell us out.”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies sarcastically, “you can tell by that _evil_ look in his eyes.”

I don’t escape giving my own answer. The siblings turn to me with yet _another_ of their matching expressions – (seriously, it’s spine-chilling how they are _not_ twins) – this one is of solemn resolution.

Good thing I’m resolute myself: “I don’t want to take the risk of collateral damage. We have plenty of trouble for bringing him to it.”

They both nod with their heads down. Katara embraces herself.

“C’mon, guys! I found the ball!”

Her arms hook with Sokka’s and mine and pulls us to march to Aang’s voice together.

**Aang**

“Ready, Zuko?”

He’s keeping his balance quite well for someone who has played before. “Sure.”

“Zuko, Zuko! Zuko, Zuko!” Katara’s voice is musical and heavenly as she cheers and claps!

She’s so pretty!

She and Sokka are sitting on the ground watching up to Zuko and me standing over the court’s polls. Zuko guards the goal.

I take out the ball, swinging it with my airbending, its lapels create even more air for me to use. (This whole game is on _my_ side.)

“Aang, Aang! Aang, Aang!”

I let the ball roll over my shoulders – (girls like sporty guys, right?) (Nothing sportier than a good won airball match!)

Zuko stands in the goal like this was about to be the easiest thing in the world. (Little does he know that I’m the best airball scorer around!)

I toss the ball from side to side and then in the air just lazily enough for it to look effortless.

It goes up, and then down; I smile innocently at Zuko before I skip it, and kick it with a powerful air swipe. The sound it makes crashing against the poles would be strident for many, but for me, it’s music, and it’s even more fun to watch as the ball turns into just a light brownish blur shooting through them and closer to Zuko’s goal.

He only continues standing still… watching the ball coming his way.

The ball grows in power and speed… until Zuko jumps himself, and falls to be leveled with the angle where it bounces. He catches it before it can hit another pole and with a firebending push of his feet lands in a different one not far from the goal.

“Nice shot,” he says.

_No. Way._

Katara squeals and cheers some more: “Zuko, Zuko! Zuko, Zuko!”

Even Sokka joins in: “Go Team Angry Boy!... Hey, I should put that on a shirt!”

“How did you do that?” It’s hard not to scream!

“Um… The heat of the moment?”

He comes to _my_ house! “Rematch!”

*******

“Rematch!”

*******

“ _Rematch!_ ”

*******

It doesn’t matter how many times I call it, _each time_ Zuko blocks my shots with his creepy, super-powered, firebender… I don’t know, _something!_ He jumps, flips, spins – it could all pass as flying if I wasn’t an airbender myself and if I wasn’t standing so close!

He moves from one side of the court to the other like a rabigaroo – (man, I always wanted one of those) – or a cheetah-dog. I wonder if he just has super-speed, it would make total sense if he had super-speed! He’s just a flash of red, black, and a ponytail that fires itself through the court. (Maybe he is just half spider-cat…)

“Guys!” Sokka calls us out. “Can’t we just call it a tie of zero to zero? At least it would be more fun if Zuko could _actually_ score!”

Zuko’s eyes narrow – it’s a strangely spiteful and knowing expression at the same time. “I’m no airbender, remember, Sokka?”

He sighs heavily, and shakes his hand, surrendering on the subject.

“Just let me try one more thing,” I say.

Zuko shrugs. “Bring it on.”

I command the wind to bring the ball to me once again and twirl it around for kicking it… upwards.

It goes up to the sky like a comet and then down, but I’m not done yet. I redirect it with a tornado of my legs for it crash against _all_ the poles, for it to be speedier, stronger. For it to form a labyrinth that Zuko’s eyes can’t escape.

I can do it! I can do it! It sounds like dozens of bells ringing together, and they go to Zuko at an almost dangerous speed!

Actually dangerous.

_Oh, no._

It’s going too fast! And too high! It could hit him to make him lose his balance!

“Zuko, be careful!”

It doesn’t hit him and doesn’t get into the goal either, but crashes against one of its frames instead. It rebounds back to hit Zuko on the head.

“ _Ah!_ ” He falls.

He screams!

Katara and Sokka scream: “ _Zuko!_ ”

We’re too high! His yelling seems eternal! Oh, no, what have I done? “Zuko!”

I try to create an actual _air_ mattress to catch him but for a moment I’m… _blinded_.

There’s a light… coming from his… _eyes?_

“Aang!”

I snap out of it and catch him. Katara and Sokka rush to his sides and I float to them, leveling down the wind I used to put him on the ground. His eyes are not glowing now, they’re not even open. Both siblings kneel beside him. Katara takes his face between her hands and Sokka just studies him.

“Zuko!” she says, frantic, “Zuko, can you hear me?”

He complains – it kinda sounds like a half-cough – and reaches to put a hand on his head. “What happened?”

“It was your Avatar Spirit! It almost awakened when you fell!”

_Avatar Spirit?_

“Oh… It happened again?”

_Again?_

“Almost.”

“How you feeling?” Sokka intervenes, “Feel like fainting again? And define your level of fainting: from _‘bending an entire ocean’_ to _‘being unfrozen after a hundred years’_.”

_Bending an entire ocean?_

“Quick: how many fingers do you see?” Sokka shows him three of his fingers. “Answer honestly.”

Zuko props himself onto his elbows with a blank expression. “Well, at the time I see three… _people_.”

They freeze. Zuko only points to me standing behind their backs.

The three of them – (my new friends) – look at me. Blue eyes wide and looking for an escape and golden eyes just fatalistic and still surprisingly knowing, like they could tell this would happen from the very beginning… and they didn’t like it.

“Aang,” Sokka’s hands extend to me as if to ease me. “Relax. We know what you’re thinking,” he says. “We exaggerated when we said we could keep secrets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the characters make several references to Buddhism and overall Tibetan culture:  
> [1] Anicca: One of the assertions of Buddhism, it describes how everything is impermanent.  
> [2] Avijjā: The ignorance or misperception that anything is permanent or that there is identity in any being. It’s considered the primary source of clinging.  
> [3] Dukkha: One of Buddhism’s truths that describes how life in this mundane world, with its clinging and craving to impermanent states and things, is unsatisfactory. It raises when we crave and cling to mundane things.  
> [4] Tanggula Mountains: The actual Tibetan Plateau.  
> [5] Yangtze River: The longest river in Asia.  
> [6] Dukkha ceases when craving and clinging cease. Cessation is nirvana, true enlightenment, and peace of mind.  
> [7] Khata: Following Tibetan dining etiquette, a khata is a white silk scarf that the guest receives upon arriving and symbolizes joy for the visit and reverence for the guest.  
> [8] Dzabija cups: Wooden teacups made from dzabija wood are considered especially fine in Tibetan culture. They have a smooth surface, a grain pattern and are made with a balanced form.  
> [9] The best teacups are made from metal or silver, which are used only for guests and on festival days.  
> [10] Chhaang: a traditional Tibetan and Nepalese beer. The brew tastes like ale. The alcohol content is quite low, but it produces an intense feeling of warmth and well-being.  
> [11] According to Tibetan etiquette, the guest is supposed to reject the first tea offering. (Etiquette is a very important matter and even the guests are expected to behave at their best.)  
> [12] Chhaang is served during certain social occasions, like welcoming guests or wooing. Hence Zuko’s annoyance at Aang’s attention towards Katara.  
> [13] Cheser Mog: A Tibetan dish. Rice, with melted yak butter, brown sugar, raisins and salt.  
> [14] According to Tibetan etiquette, offered a meal, the guest may politely refuse at first. Upon ensuing offering, the host may find out what the guest wants.  
> [15] Laping: A spicy cold mung bean noodle dish in Tibetan and Nepalese cuisine.  
> [16] Gyabrag: A pancake made with barley flour, yak butter, dry cheese curds and sugar  
> [17] Chetang Goiche: Strips of dough fried with rapeseed oil, topped with brown sugar.


	13. Chapter 十二: From bad to worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beautiful people!😃 So, here’s the thing, I was planning on posting around two chapters today, but the next one still needs some work, and I’m very tired to keep working on it tonight, (I still have trouble for sleeping, okay?) but then I remembered I haven’t posted in a while, so I decided to bring this to you tonight and the next one most probably tomorrow. BTW, I want to keep challenging myself so, while I'm no expert and have limited resources to learn, I'll do my best to portray the headcanon of ADHD!Aang.
> 
> Thanks to all of you for all your support so far and if you want to find out ways to help me to keep writing, please visit the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com

**Katara**

“We exaggerated when we said we could keep secrets.”

_No joke, Sokka!_

I help Zuko stand up. He stumbles, I stabilize him. It’s a horribly familiar scene.

His eyes are only vaguely unfocused, but for the rest he’s fine. His skin is not greenish or gray and his balance is steady. Maybe it’s just that the Avatar Spirit needs to be awakened a few times for him to get used to it… Just _not_ when we are hiding in a foreign camp.

“Aang, say something,” Sokka presses as we observe Aang wide-eyed and standing _purposely_ afar from us. (Is he afraid?) (I wouldn’t blame him if he was, but…) (Are we really something that he should fear?) “Say _anything_. No, wait – better, don’t say anything. Quick, guys, bring a rope!”

“ _What?_ ”

Okay, Sokka _is_ something _all_ of us should fear.

“ _Are you insane?_ ” Zuko takes strength from where he doesn’t have any just to yell at him.

“We can’t leave any witnesses!”

“I can’t believe this,” Zuko facepalms himself, “When I said I didn’t want collateral damage, I didn’t think I would need to protect him from _you_!”

“You wanted to protect me?” Aang’s question and eyes are hopeful and innocent, it almost _hurts_ to look at him.

“Aang, you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” I say. “It would put us _all_ in danger.”

 _We have enemies_ , I want to add; but the Fire Nation can’t find us here, right?

No, unless there’s anything around that they can track as they did back at the Tribe. What could they use to get so high up to these mountains anyway? Demon wings, perhaps? Or Zhao could transform himself into an _actual_ crocodile bear and use his claws to climb up – And then we could make ourselves coats with his fur!

Speaking about fur, Appa’s roar – (and his whole body) – appears soaring to us. He’s somewhat shaking, he looks unnerved.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Aang and Momo rush to his side…

… before another, much discordant voice calls him: “Aang!”

“It’s Tashi!” he cringe-whispers.

“Who’s Tashi?”

“A member of the Council of Elders,” his eyes roam around more antsy than alert, “Guys, you gotta hide!”

Zuko’s eyebrow arches as noticeably as it can. “Where?”

Appa lowers his head and jaws to… vomit a giant, brown pouch covered in drool. (Its strings are large enough to surround his back.)

“You went to look for the pouch to hide them?” Aang brightens. “Oh, buddy!” And then hugs him before going on to tie the strings around his core.

“Get inside the sack,” he tells us.

Zuko’s the one to talk, Sokka and I just stare. “What?”

“Just do it! It’s big enough for the three of you to fit and Tashi won’t see you!”

“Aang!”

“Quick! He’s coming closer!”

*******

**Zuko**

“Perfect,” I grit under my breath; my foot slips over the wet cloth. “ _Fantastic_.”

Katara and Sokka aren’t doing much better than me keeping the top of the slobby bag away from their heads and hair. We are just contorting at this point, trying to not punch each other – (not so successfully) – while we stand on no solid ground. It’s like we were truly floating in a pool of _drool_.

I think I’m going to get sick. “This is all your fault, Sokka!”

“ _Mine?_ ” his voice is something of a squeal short of breath.

“Yes, yours, Mister _‘bending an entire ocean’_.”

“What about Katara? She’s the one that first said the Avatar Spirit thing.”

Skipping a big shot of bison saliva, she protests: “Hey, don’t get _me_ into this!”

“Sure, let’s better get us _all_ into a giant bag covered in bison slaver! – Oh, wait…”

He slips and falls over Katara, who falls over me.

“Can you two try to keep some distance? I do appreciate my personal space,” I say.

“Oh, excuse us, your Avatarness,” the sack trembles as Sokka (tries) stand up. “We didn’t mean to disrupt your quality time bathing yourself in _slobber_!”

“Stop arguing!” Katara’s also struggling to get up but it doesn’t get in the way of her reproach. “We are going to get Aang in trouble!”

The conversation outside is loud. That Tashi monk sounds innately stern, and with a quite unpleasant voice.

**Aang**

“May I ask what are you doing up at this hour?”

Tashi’s permanent frown is deeper than usual, his bulgy eyes – (sometimes he looks like an iguana-chameleon) – are something like enraged, but I could be just imagining it. I mean, it would make sense that he _was_ enraged, but with so much that I gotta hide (my eyes shoot a quick glance at the bag hanging at Appa’s side) I’m more nervous than usual, too!

Hugging Momo to my chest, I try to come up with something convincing: “I… ah… I… Appa had a nightmare!” I blurt out.

He roars to back me up.

“He came to wake me up,” I finish. (That’s credible, right?)

“He’s lying!” Both Gephel[3] and Nawang[4] – the boys that went looking for me when I was having lunch with Katara, Zuko, and Sokka today – come from behind his back.

I frown at them and their perfectly put chubas[1] and braided hair[2].

“We sleep right beside his tent,” Gephel is the one to talk, “And Appa never came looking for him.”

“He cried!” I say, “I heard him and went looking for him myself! And if it’s all a fuss about what am _I_ doing awake, what are _they_ – ” I point to them “ – doing awake?”

“We just said we went look for Tashi when you ran off.”

_Yeah, right._

“Listen, Aang,” Tashi says. “Even if what you are telling us is true, what is Appa doing with its travel sack at night?”

“I… ah… forgot… to take it off.”

“We did _not_ give you permission to travel away from the village today,” he reminds me. (Monkeyfeathers!) “Have you been sneaking away?”

“Nope!” The word pops from my lips and I shake my head for extra convincement.

“Yes, he has!” Gephel and Nawang speak in creepy unison.

“Tomorrow we are _officially_ having a conversation about boundaries, young man,” Tashi warns, “Gyatso has been too indulgent with you, and I’m starting to question your involvement in our teachings.”

I cringe. (Did you hear that sound? It was my heart breaking.) (With guilt.) Momo squawks from how hard I’m squeezing.

Gephel and Nawang stare and smirk while Tashi keeps rambling, “We have caught you lying in the past, and no matter how hard we try, you just don’t seem to grasp the concepts we teach you time and again.”

“I just…” my voice is weak even as I squash Momo stronger, “have trouble remembering some stuff.”

“That’s not what I mean, I meant assimilating the lessons we are imparting you. I swear I’ve never seen a monk apprentice as slack as you, no wonders you tend to go out of Air Nomad culture so often. If I see you have gone against your mentors’ teachings one more time, I’m going to…”

“Ouch!”

 _Uh-oh!_ That came from Appa’s sack.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” I rush to say.

But Zuko, Katara and Sokka also rush to talk:

“You two are crushing me!”

“I’m just trying to not get soaked by bison’s slobber!”

“We are officially _awful_ at this hiding thing!”

The sack continues to twist and waver, it looks more like it was containing vulture wasps. Ones that are so heavy that are breaking the seams.

The buckles also snap once the bag falls to the ground.

And it sounded like a harsh fall, too, no wonders the three of them roll out of it like grunting and squeaking hollow logs. (Did they have something broken?)

(Are there worse things to hide than three teenagers?)

**Zuko**

Katara, Sokka, and I stare at all the standing Air Nomads, who in return look at us with identical wide-open eyes, yet the most significant look is the one on Aang’s face. His eyes are trembling while his body is paralyzed, they are unsure if to turn to check on that Monk Tashi and the two boys from this afternoon. He is plain panicky.

_Oh, no._

Katara is the first one to break the silence: “It’s not Aang’s fault!”

She’s also the first one to stand, Sokka and I follow. Katara and I give a hesitant step towards Aang, but then we both retreat; Tashi’s gaze is growing deadlier and deadlier by just having us standing this close to him, although his eyes are the most focused on me. I return his stare blankly.

“He told us not to come!” Katara lies hurriedly. “He… He _did_ tell us it was forbidden!”

Sokka seconds her: “Yeah, he did!”

Aang breaks down in guilt. “No! That’s not true!” He lets go of Momo and turns to Tashi, his eyes quickly becoming pleading. “I did tell them it was forbidden to bring foreigners, but then I brought them myself, I convinced them to play airball with me!”

“No! That’s not true either!” I yank Aang behind my back to shield him from Tashi; (he’s peering at him like he might kill him on the spot!) Katara catches Aang and embraces him protectively. “ _I_ am the one that asked him to play airball, this is all _my_ fault; I’ll accept any reprisals of your judgment!”

Monk Tashi’s eyes are now so narrowed and crinkled in a disgusted frown they don’t seem human anymore. It’s not fear what I feel looking at them, but they shine with hatred like the ones of a poisonous centipede snake, one that is slowly readying itself to attack.

They dart themselves to Aang. “ _You brought Fire Nation to our camp?_ ”

**Aang**

I’m scared.

That’s pretty much everything I can think about. _I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared._

For all the troubles I’ve caused – that I usually cause – I’ve never seen Tashi so angry. Is he really gonna expel me from the monastery? He can’t do that, can he? This… the monastery… Monk Gyatso… _it’s everything I have_.

“I…”

Before I can even finish, he tosses Zuko away with a waft of airbending, so dense that I can actually see it moving whitish but transparent. Zuko flies away faster than the wind itself until his back crashes against a tree. Both the hit and his pained grunt are thunderous.

“ _Zuko!_ ” Katara lets go of me to run to him.

I don’t stay with my arms crossed, I go stand in front of Tashi as he takes his own bending stance. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“That’s no way to talk to your masters, _boy_!” he spits, “And I’m clearly protecting you and the rest of our culture that this murderer didn’t have the chance to exterminate!”

“Zuko didn’t hurt anybody!” I scream.

“Gephel! Nawang! Wake up all the others! We have to move from these mountains, the Fire Nation has found us!”

“No!” I convoke an air gust that brings my staff to me and use it to increase my powers and create an air wall to stop them before they leave.

Tashi himself pushes me up from the ground with a tornado that destabilizes me. 

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Now things _did_ turn scary.

**Zuko**

I hear Katara’s voice before I open my eyes. “Zuko, are you okay?”

The first thing I do is probe the spot that got hit on my back. When I grunt once more, I conclude: “ _No._ ”

Sokka comes to us. “We have to get out of here before that psycho monk does something worse to us!”

Aang is placing himself between Tashi and us as effectively as a human shielding can be with his size. He looks even smaller and skinnier confronting his own people – his own master – in our favor. The other two boys run and even though his hands and knees shake visibly, Aang uses his baton to block their way with a powerful breeze. But then Tashi raises him from the ground.

“We gotta help him!” I say.

Standing up alone awakens a beating pain around my ribs, I grind my teeth with a low growl to distract one ache with the other.

Katara catches me when I stagger and helps me straighten my back. “Easy there!”

“I _can’t_ go easy! Aang’s in trouble!”

**Aang**

I’m quite literally whirling in the air – so this really isn’t something I’m not used to – but I need clear, stable sight of Tashi to block his attacks to Zuko and the others!

“Stop!”

Even faster than I went up, I go down. The tornado fades and I descend with the night wind now brushing against my skin, I halt the drop by amplifying my breath and exhaling it to crash against the ground. I whirl in the air yet again, but this time purposely and to get to my feet.

Zuko is the one to come check on me; he’s moving too slowly but not limping. Actually, he’s walking more rigidly than if he was limping. “Aang, are you alright?”

“What happened?”

Tashi yells. “He attacked me with his murderous bending!”

“I _didn’t_ ,” Zuko counters, “I just pushed you away to let him down. I told you, _I’ll_ accept any reprisals that you choose, but don’t blame Aang for this!”

“ _Aang_ – ” My name sounds like an insult “ – is the one that brought _you_ here.”

“Because he was following the Air Nomad lessons!” Now it is Katara the one that comes next to us. “We were hungry and he didn’t turn his back on us! Shouldn’t you be _proud_?”

“ _Proud?_ ” Tashi’s incredulous, he can’t even pronounce properly for his dismay and his lack of teeth, “Proud that he led a killer right to his own people? And one that has the Fire Nation royal emblem on his clothes on top of that!”

“Royal emblem?” Katara turns to Zuko. I do, too.

He returns our stares briefly but then looks at the floor once his hand reaches to a rounded insignia with a gold ring enclosing a golden fire symbol attached to the neck of his jacket.

**Zuko**

“It’s not what it looks like,” I mutter to no one in particular.

Well, maybe to Aang and Katara.

Maybe to Tashi.

Maybe to myself trying to convince me I didn’t hold on to anything from before my banishment. I promised I wouldn’t, and I didn’t want to. The rules of the Agni Kai were very clear, I couldn’t hold any more ties with the royal family.

I have no family.

“It _looks_ like you in specific are a member of the Fire Nation royal family,” Tashi says, adding salt to the wound. “And you are here hunting for us so you and your kind can finally eradicate the Avatar.”

My teeth creak between each other. “That’s not true.”

“You are right, it’s not true, because the Avatar _isn’t_ with us. And I won’t let you hurt more innocents!”

He shoots me another blow. I don’t necessarily block it or deflect it, I only launch yet another string of fire, so thin but sharp and fast that it cuts the wind and splits it into two halves that dissipate themselves in front of our eyes.

“I don’t want to fight you,” I say as calmly as I can muster. (Despite everything, that’s sincere.)

“This is not a fight.” Behind him, groups of Air Nomads step closer to us, curious and shocked. “This is seeking justice.”

A current of air hits me on the side, and another one comes to launch me up from the ground and push me back down. (It seems like I can’t stop growling tonight.)

“Leave him alone!”

Katara directs the small amount of water in her vial to Monk Tashi’s face.

“Aang, Sokka, get Zuko out of here while I handle this!”

**Katara**

My water hits Tashi square in the face, and for once he leaves his bending stance. However, when I told Aang and Sokka to get Zuko out of here, I didn’t count on another airbending attack directed to me.

Aang blocks it.

“Better _I_ take him out of here,” Sokka suggests.

“No, you won’t.”

Before any of us can react, three different currents of air push us against the trees, and it doesn’t stop there. The air is not ephemeral that it comes and then dissolves, it’s constant and it feels almost solid and heavy like rocks crushing us instead of wind. It retains us glued to the logs incapable of moving so much as our arms or legs.

“Guys!” Zuko stands up from the ground and tries reaching for us.

Yet, as soon as he stands up, he freezes in the spot. His mouth is slack and a small, thin, ghostly white curtain is exiting it.

His breath.

“You won’t either.”

“ _Zuko!_ ” I scream.

**Zuko**

Little by little, the sight of Katara trapped against the tree turns blurrier and blurrier. It would be at the same pace of my breath if I was breathing at all. I’m not taking air, I’m losing it. Unhurriedly. My lungs are slowly emptying and drying. Katara’s frightened face – every line of her expression – disappears, dispels, and she becomes blue shadows that mix with pitch-black growing from the corners of my eyes.

Losing track of my senses, I can’t hear the choking noises coming from my own throat, or Katara’s scream, or then the other one of an unknown but level voice asking “What’s going on in here?”

It’s too late, I have already drifted away.

Fear and power explode inside me.

**Katara**

It’s a bit ironic that when Zuko turns the most indomitable and dangerous his eyes glow white. White is supposed to be a sign of _goodness_. It’s supposed to be purifying, for the good to erase the bad. Maybe in a way it still is, just that the circumstances aren’t fit to determine what is exactly good and what (or _who_ ) is exactly bad.

With his Avatar Spirit awakened, who knows what could happen!

He gives a single yet strong step into the ground and creates an earthquake. It’s a mighty vibration that grows from the spot he’s stepping on to all directions around him; the omniscient movement gives the impression that a giant, dull sound wave is also rising like a dome that brushes his opponents away.

It works, Tashi is knocked to the ground, losing his grasp over Zuko’s suffocation. Zuko still in his trance cuts the line of air already outside of his mouth, mixes it with clean wind, and directs it to go to his face so he can inhale it.

The air that was holding Sokka, Aang, and me hostage vanishes as well, and we fall tremblingly on our feet. Things would be fine if all of it ended there.

 _Why did it have to be an earthquake?_ Because it is too broad of an attack it doesn’t discriminate and just keeps shaking more and more powerfully the more it prolongs itself; it’s _impossible_ to _stay_ on our feet!

My arms ache for the stretch of holding to the log I was trying to get away from. Aang has it more difficult, though, his arms are shorter than mine. The night fills itself with the screams of the Air Nomads. The tents fall. Even the trees do, too!

“Aang!”

The other elderly monk that came asking what was going on uses his own airbending to rush and get Aang away from the forest before a branch falls on top of him.

The tremor keeps escalating.

 _Actually_ escalating.

It’s lessening, leaving only a trace of itself as it passes us in its way to climb higher through the mountain. ( _Now_ I get it.) (It was intended to expand around Zuko to push the threats away.)

Even before it is completely over, Aang, Sokka, and I run to Zuko. Aang pushes himself out of the embrace of the monk that saved him.

Zuko’s glow dies down once we get to his side. “What – ”

The underground vibrations he made keep climbing, we can _see_ the peaks of the mountains trembling and the snow and rocks falling, accumulating, and coming down _straight_ to the camp at high speed.

Zuko and Aang gape at the avalanche, I cringe. Sokka says: “Oh-oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to Tibetan culture:  
> [1] Chuba: Traditional Tibetan clothing. A long capacious robe with wide, elongated sleeves which hang almost to the ground. The nomads generally wear a sheepskin chuba, hand-sewn and crudely tanned in butter, with the fleece on the inside.  
> [2] Braids: The Tibetans wear their hair either long or in a braid wound around their heads styled in elaborated patterns of lesser braids which make the arrangement to look like a crown.  
> Names:  
> [3] Gephel: Tibetan boy name. Means “Increase of Merit.”  
> [4] Nawang: Tibetan boy name. Means “The Possessive One.”


	14. Chapter 十三: Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I couldn’t update when I said that I would. My past week has been awful, too many antis Zutara coming to bother me everywhere and I haven’t felt like talking much. I might take some days to draw and cool down. Besides, I’m also going through some personal trouble, and that’s why I would REALLY appreciate it if you could only check out the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com
> 
> And now it's time to answer the comments!!

**Katara**

It’s like the quake suddenly hit a mirror and was returning to us, but intensified and with a _huge_ revenge! The avalanche amasses itself like it is growing into one giant white and grayish rock rolling our way, followed by debris and white dust; it’s devouring the mountain and we’ll soon be the dessert!

The shaking of the ground mixes itself with the crashing of the rocks and the wild, panicked screams of the Air Nomads running around trying to escape by foot leaving all their belongings behind. Some of them bump into my friends and me in their frenzy searching for their families and the young kids. It’s dizzying and scary, the situation is growing more and more out of control, it reminds me of when Zhao attacked our village, and it’s surprisingly difficult to find a solution when even the ground refuses to stay still! And when a certain, bitter, old monk _keeps_ bothering us:

“You did this?” Tashi’s question is directed at Zuko, angry and with a clear holier-than-thou note that makes me want to slap him across the face.

Zuko’s quick to defend himself, although looking defenseless, “It wasn’t my intention!”

“It wasn’t even his _fault_!” I move forward to Tashi, facing him and physically keeping him from approaching Zuko. My voice grows with my anger until it becomes a nearly crystal-shattering screech: “ _You_ are the one that almost _killed_ him! What did you expect? For him to just stand there and let you _choke him to death_?”

“I clearly wasn’t trying to kill him, young lady, I was just trying to render him unconscious!” (The more I hear Tashi’s voice, the more displeasing it is.) (The more I want to use my fist to throw away his very few remaining teeth!) “And you should show some more respect to your elders!”

“I don’t need to ‘respect’ _anyone_ that throws my friends and my brother against trees and then tries to _asphyxiate_ them!”

“Katara, stop it,” Zuko’s hands grab my arms, pulling and turning me away from the annoying fossil. He nearly has to scream for me to hear him over the commotion: “We don’t have time for this, we have to find a way to save the village.”

Tashi makes another unwelcome interruption. “This village most certainly doesn’t need of your help!”

The tents are already falling down vociferously and the resources that they saved are rolling/shaking away.

“I beg to differ, Monk Tashi.”

That’s the other monk that came right before the avalanche, the one that saved Aang. I don’t think he’s that much younger than Tashi but the friendly, serene expression on his face – even given the circumstances – make him seem livelier, healthier; I could _swear_ he’s still somewhat smiling beneath his mustache.

“But before we settle anything, Aang, would you mind introduce us to your new friends?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” Aang snaps back to attention after just observing the exchange. “Guys, this is Monk Gyatso, the one that I told you about. Monk Gyatso, these are my new friends: Katara, Sokka, and Zuko.” He pauses in a considering pose. “ _Avatar_ Zuko,” he corrects himself.

Tashi’s flabbergasted: “ _Avatar?_ ”

Gyatso, on the other hand, bows to us. “Pleased to meet you, Katara, Sokka, and Avatar Zuko,” his salute is innocently playful.

I bow back. “Hi! We have heard so much about you!”

A violent quiver of the ground interrupts us.

“Right, right, and we’d like to hear more _after_ we fix… ” Sokka gestures to the open scenery “… _this_. How do we do that?”

A familiar roar sounds in the distance, Druk’s flying to escape the mountains. Zuko whistles and waves at him, “Druk!”

He finally lands on our spot – or, well, it’s hard for a dragon his size to land in a place like this without hitting anything, so he just makes space for himself amidst the forest. (Huh. He’s well trained.)

“You guys get everyone else away from here,” Zuko instructs. “I’ll take care of the avalanche.”

And in a blink, he runs off.

Or rather, tries to. I catch him by his sleeve, “Wait!”

“Are you insane?” Sokka says. “How are _you_ gonna do that?”

Zuko’s answer is just… a grimace. An uncertain one.

Sokka’s eyes grow and his hands go to his head. “Are you kidding? You _don’t_ have a plan?”

“I can handle it,” Zuko practically snarls, “but you all have to go away!”

“Zuko, you have to let us help you,” I plea.

The uproar is becoming louder, more thunderous; I don’t know what’s worse: the awareness of the floor moving by itself, or the awareness that you are in the way of a mountain crumbling down.

“You _have_ to get the hell out of here!” Zuko insists.

“How are we even going to find you again when the avalanche is over?” I wonder, my temper growing, too.

He doesn’t answer. He looks _away_. He doesn’t even have the strength to look us in the eye.

I don’t know if to be glad or mad that Sokka’s not shocked to silence like me. “Oh, so now you’re just suicidal?” he says.

 _Now_ Zuko is just _furious_. “Forget about me and leave already!”

“This is not a street fight!” Sokka argues, “This is not a physical attack! This is a natural disaster, we need a plan! An _escape_ one, not a ‘jump head to the danger’ one!”

“And I must assume you have an ‘avalanche-dealing’ plan?”

“I could come up with one and avoiding anyone from _dying_ if you gave me the chance.”

“There is no ‘ _chance_ ’! With every minute that passes – including the ones _I_ have wasted in this conversation – we get closer to be crushed to death!” He gestures to the great mass of rocks and snow indeed getting closer, and pulls himself out of my grasp. “Besides, I don’t _need_ your help!”

This time he does get away before I have the time to stop him.

Sokka bites out: “ _Fine_. We don’t need a hero either, we’ll figure out a _logical_ solution by ourselves! Katara, Aang, help me evacuate everyone.”

He goes in the direction of the campsite, Aang follows, even Tashi and Gyatso do, but I simply watch them… before catching up with Zuko next to Druk. I grab his sleeve tighter, ensuring he doesn’t get away.

“Zuko, you can’t _possibly_ think about doing this!” I say near to desperate. Stabbing panic is piercing me from the inside out increasing the pressure the more time it passes that we don’t get out of here. “Sokka’s right, it’s _suicidal_! I know that, you know that; _you just. Can’t. Do this!_ ”

His head tilts back as if asking the moon _Why me?_ (I’m the one that should be asking that, you sucker!) “Why is nobody listening to me tonight? I said I can handle this!”

“Really? You learned earthbending while we weren’t watching you?”

I can tell he’s grinding his teeth once more; it keeps him from yelling, but makes his words come tense and strained, “I’ll be _fine_ , Katara.”

My voice is the most clear, spookily serene thing, and yet it cuts among the chaos: “I don’t believe you.”

There’s no real silence – there can’t be with even a worse outcome than a hailstorm approaching and the screams harrowing our ears – but neither of us speaks. I can’t tell what’s going through Zuko’s mind as he looks at me, yet I maintain my stance. I don’t believe him, not even _he_ believes himself, _that_ I can tell. He knows he won’t be fine just as much as I do, he only wants me to pretend that I don’t; to care a little less. Every second I spend holding on to his coat till my knuckles go white is me refusing to do _exactly_ that.

He groans, his eyes squeezing shut and his face grimacing in exasperation. “Katara, you have to leave. You’ll get hurt.”

“What if _you_ get hurt?” I counter. “Alone? Buried in the snow?”

“I’m a _fire_ bender, I shall be fine!”

“That’s _exactly_ my point!” I snap. “A firebender, not an earthbender! You haven’t mastered the four elements, how are you even supposed to deal with an avalanche?”

“I’ll figure it out – ”

“Along the way?” I cut him off. “Yeah, I’ve heard it before.”

He groans, yet again.

“I don’t like this, Zuko!” I say, trying for him to _get_ it. “Didn’t you learn anything from the South Pole, with Zhao? Nearly _all_ of us died that day! Do you have _any_ idea how worried I was? My entire _family_ was the one that was going to die! And because that wasn’t bad enough, you decided to ‘jump head to the danger’ then, too! _Why_ are you being like this?”

“ _Because I don’t want you hurt!_ ” he snaps back much fiercer, beyond angry. His eyes glisten, not with tears, but with something reminiscing about them. “ _Of course_ I remember the South Pole! I remember it was _my_ fault that Zhao found the Southern Water Tribe and that he tried to blow it up, and maybe do something even _worse_ to you! It was _my_ fault then and it is _my_ fault now! _Why_ can’t _you_ see that I just want to protect you – ”

He cuts _himself_ off. Both of his golden eyes are wide open in astonishment enough for me to get a full view of his scarred eye’s iris, they stare directly at my face but seem lost at the same time.

I can’t move.

But then I’m thrown off balance by another great quake, Zuko catches me when I fall against his chest.

Sokka calls for me: “Katara!”

He and Aang are still trying to get everyone to calm down and _hopefully_ cooperate to escape this nightmare. If we don’t, he’ll get buried, too...

I have to go make sure that doesn’t happen.

I glance at Zuko one last time, but I have to go help my brother.

**Zuko**

The sight of Katara running away is fuzzy, surreal. Everything feels like I’m trapped in a dream-like state and I have no control over what I’m doing or saying.

Drake awakens me waving his tail in front of my face, growling impatiently; I blink. The first thing I register is the noise of the rocks rolling closer. The landslide is too broad, it’s coming from all the mountains enclosing the campground for the shape my earthquake took…

“Druk, get us to the mountain in the west,” I throw myself up to his back.

The wind feels strange as we fly, it feels the most like real, dense night sky. Thicker than at the South Pole, however drier, which makes it pass as warmer and harsher. It rasps against my skin.

Thinking about the South Pole reminds me of what I said to Katara just now…

I… I… I could have meant that as a general ‘you’, right? ( _Right?_ ) Like… a ‘ _you_ ’ for enclosing her, and the Air Nomads, and Sokka, and Aang, and everybody – because I _am_ worried about everybody! I _am_! Why else would I be flying straight to a massive avalanche without even the remotest idea of what I’m doing? Oh… Wait…

That… doesn’t sound like it could be of much help.

Druk grunts.

“ _Of course_ I thought this through,” I answer him, “I’m only… polishing the details.”

He doesn’t sound convinced.

We have arrived at the mountain, slightly higher than at its feet. The debris is much bigger than what it looked like from the ground.

“Druk, breathe some fire!” I command. “As much as you can! As big as you can!”

He obeys and his jaws open massively, letting out an inferno on its own. I have to cover my eyes to not get blinded. The heat burns my forearm beneath my sleeve; I’m sweating and already dehydrated, breathing hot sparks even though we are on a snowed mountain in winter. It takes me a few blinks to get used to the light. Druk’s fire hits directly against the rubble, producing a huge, yellowy screen that melts the snow, instantly evaporating it.

“Keep that up!” I tell him. And then I expand the fire.

I make it wider, linear and rounded, following the circle of _four_ different avalanches coming from _four_ different mountains. The snow succumbs and transforms into warm steam, the clash of temperatures makes me shiver. Everything is cloudy, but at least I solved one of two issues.

“Okay, now I just have to take care of the rocks.”

The ones that are still coming and now scalding and solider for the fire.

*******

**Sokka**

“Could you all – ” (Screams.)

“Could you – ” (More screams.)

“Could – ” ( _More_ screams.)

“ _Ugh!_ ” I turn to Aang and Katara, watching the Air Nomads panic-running around us, in front of us – _everywhere_. “Do you have any experience on calming masses?”

“ _I_ did, back at home,” Katara reminds me, “But I don’t think these people will want to listen to me after everything that has happened.”

“What about you, Aang?” I ask him. “You’re a local.”

“Great idea!” (He does have some weird enthusiasm.)

With another one of his airbending craziness, he projects himself to stand on a pile of fallen tents and… I don’t know, whatever it is under them. The point is that it gives him a podium:

“Attention, everybody! My new friends and I – ”

“Shut up, you’re the one that brought the foreigners!”

And then a visible airbending ball hits him right on the forehead. He falls back. (For the clanging, I assume the tents fell on top of something metal.)

Katara gasps sharply. “Who the heck threw that? C’mon, I just want to _talk_ – ”

I grab her shoulder before she goes on full rampage. “Katara, we’re trying to pass as peace-inducing!”

“That wasn’t very peaceful!”

“It’s okay, Katara,” Aang gets to his feet by himself, “I kinda of understand them, they haven’t dealt with foreigners in… their _lives_. And maybe _I’m_ the one that’s too confident. It’s difficult for them to trust.”

“Well, as of now, trusting is their _only_ option,” Katara says before taking up Aang’s former podium.

She whistles.

“Everybody!” (Great, she’s in her bossy mode! People _always_ do what she says when she’s in her bossy mode!) “We know we haven’t gotten the best first impression of each other, and that we have already broken your rules, but my brother has repeated time and again that there’s a natural disaster happening, and we have to work together to survive it.”

“You sure you don’t worry more about surviving _yourselves_?” someone yells from the crowd. “That must be the reason why you’re travelling with a _firebender_!”

A wave of affirmative noises flows, and Katara scowls. (Oh-oh!) But she breathes, calms down. ( _Yes!_ )

“We have already admitted that we have broken your rules,” she responds, “and for that we are sorry. We truly are. And as soon as this is over, we will leave to never come back. But now I’m telling you that times have changed. When the world is so much of a scary place that you have to hide yourself, you have to rely on the people that want to help you to confront and defeat that fear. Give us this chance to show you that you can trust the people from the other nations. We value you. In fact, we _won’t_ leave until we ensure each and every one of you is safe and sound!”

Whoa, little sis! That was harsh!

And effective. Even while their faces and their stares remain reluctant and distrustful, the crowd of Air Nomads is giving the tiniest bittiest of a collective nod, so I count it as win!

“So what do we do?”

My eyes go to the bison stables.

“The bisons. How many people can each of them lift?” I ask.

Aang is the one that answers: “Around six or seven, depending on the age and the size of the bison.”

“Okay then.” I do as much of a quick headcount as I can. “Go get supplies. Just the necessary, food and clothes. There’s a pretty good chance you might have to start from zero at yet another location.”

“I can help with that!” Aang takes his staff once more. “Appa!”

Appa comes like a magic humongous fuzz raining from the sky and Aang twirls his staff to create a gust of wind flying close to the ground and in the direction of the boxes of food that used to be covered by one of the tents that fell down. He does the same, but pointing to a cluster of cloth next.

The first ones to land on Appa’s back are the boxes, they rise from the ground and Aang’s air takes them to rest squarely – (no pun intended) – on their feet. The cloth takes its sweet time falling delicately until it touches the top of the packages.  


“Ready!” He beams.

(I didn’t even have time to blink during all of that!) “Okay,” I say.

Then I turn to the crowd. “That settled, form groups of exactly six and go for a flying bison. Parents, don’t lose sight of your children. But remember, you have to move fast. Now, go!”

They do as soon as I clap my hands, the adults take the kids too young to move as quickly as we need in their arms and rush to the stables.

“That was some real chief-like attitude, big brother!” Katara jumps down from her improvised stage.

I smirk, pretending it’s no biggie – which it _is_. “Yeah, I know, sis.”

She rolls her eyes.

“And you know, Aang,” I tell the little guy, “For a vegetarian, you’re quite a good bender.”

“Thank you! Now, you two climb on Appa. I think he can manage to carry the three of us despite the weight he already has.”

Momo flies to his head.

“Sorry. The _four_ of us.”

Katara and I do as he tells us, and Aang is the one that takes Appa’s leashes just as the other Air Nomads come closer to us with their own bisons.

“Follow our lead,” I announce, “We’ll get somewhere away from here.”

“Appa, yip-yip!”

The bisons rise in a stair-like arrangement, the air is dry for the climate…

Maybe because the avalanche (err, avalanch _es_ ) set themselves on fire!

“Whoa!” Each and every one of us (Katara, Aang, me, all the remaining Air Nomads) duck out of impulse. It’s like a huge fire circle spread around the mountains, it’s getting rid of the snow.

“It’s Zuko!” Katara says, staring at the largest mountain in the west. The one that has a great fire barrier dividing it in half. “He’s melting the snow.”

“ _This_ is what he was about?” I say. (For how high we are, I can’t see him.) (It’s even hard to spot Druk, you can imagine our altitude!)

“We have to go for him!” she states.

“Didn’t he say for us to forget about him and get everyone out?” I reply, indifferently.

“We _are_ going for him!” she reaffirms, glaring like she’s close to bare her teeth.

I sigh. “ _Fine_.”

She is the one to announce our departure. “All of you wait here while we go get our friend. Aang, go in direction to that mountain.”

“Going, my lady!”

The wind hits the three of us in the face as we descend.

*******

**Zuko**

The rocks are sharper now, is the shape my own fire gave them.

_They are far more hurtful._

_It will be painful._

Nothing!

It’s not enough, I need something else! (Why the hell _isn’t_ the awareness that I’m on first row to receive an _avalanche_ enough?)

I growl, taking off my coat. I let out my left arm through one sleeve. Both of my forearms still have the bandages for the other crusades I’ve had until now, but the upper part of it is untouched. Vulnerable.

I cast a fire dagger with my right hand. Fear tightens my stomach.

I kill it.

“Druk, don’t be scared, okay?” I say.

_This is nothing. Honestly._

I shove the dagger into my bare shoulder.

**Katara**

_Ah!_

“Did you hear something?” I turn to Sokka.

“Aside from the sound of the trail of rocks that we are going to unwelcomely interrupt in their way down… no, not really.”

I don’t bother answering him.

But I _did_ hear something. It sounded like a scream.

**Zuko**

_Sharp!_

_It burns!_

My hold on the fire becomes weak, the blazes turn red for lack of oxygen; but I still push them down my shoulder. The dagger it’s _chewing_ my skin. (Just a bit more…)

Scalding tears boil my eyes, the prolonged scream is wrenching my throat, my whole body is twisting in pain – but it worked.

The power awakens.

**Katara**

It’s not that the time stops – it doesn’t, really – but there’s a real marked _then_ and _now_.

The flames went down a while ago as we came down but, in a blink, they were no longer blazes what circled the mountains; they were humungous earth platforms growing like staircases from the four hills surrounding the village.

Their size truly is immeasurable. They are big, ample and thick enough to halt and carry all the debris coming from the crumbled peaks.

Aang, Sokka and I reel back. “Whoa!” (Again.)

It’s not only that they stop the rubbish, they _move_ it; the stages really roll _up_ the mountains taking the rocks to their starting point. And _fast_ , like they were all feathers instead of solid ground!

My jaw drops.

“Monkeyfeathers!” Aang exclaims. “He really _is_ the Avatar, huh?”

“You mean _Zuko_ is the one that’s doing that?” Sokka wonders.

“Well, what other explanation could there be?” I say.

“But how – ”

“It must be his Avatar Spirit,” I mutter, not so much as a reply. Is more like an absent observation while I look at the main mountain. “He only gets to bend more something other than fire with it activated.”

“But… doesn’t that only happens when he is about to _die_?”

I exchange a look with my brother.

“Aang, you have to get us there faster!” I tell him.

As he drives us, I watch the earth boards continue their way up, putting the avalanche in reverse. When they get to the tops, the latter open themselves into rather small, individual cavities. The platforms cut themselves to fit through them, inserting themselves in them, depositing and saving the debris _inside_ the mountain. The apertures close, leaving no trace they once existed.

We finally arrive at the height were the fire first came from.

My eyes shoot all over the place, frenetic. “Where is he?”

Druk is the one that comes to get us; he is whining.

I don’t wait to see if Aang and Sokka come after me when I follow him to a spot with enduring snow. Zuko is laying over it, panting, and clutching his upper left arm so tightly it looks like his fingers could leave bruises. His coat is off, his skin is touching directly against the snow. Druk goes to him, nuzzling and liking him.

“Zuko!” I kneel next to him, the closer I can get to his left arm. (For how Druk is tending it, I think it’s the one that needs the most attention.)

“You guys came for me after all,” he sounds… too far gone to care if that comes out as semi-happy.

“Zuko, that was amazing!” Aang comes and kneels, too, with his everlasting smile.

“ _You_ did _that_?” Sokka asks, sitting next to us and hooking a thumb to the _perfectly normal_ and _harmless_ mountains.

“Yeah,” every word that Zuko says comes as an exhausted gasp. “You could say that.”

“What happened that left you like this?” I say.

Druk rubs his nose against Zuko’s left shoulder, as if insisting for him to take his other hand off from it. He does so… hesitant.

Slowly.

Bit by bit revealing a wound that somehow is a cut and a burn simultaneously, coursing down his bicep. Whatever it is, though, his arm is wrecked open by it.

“Oh, my Spirits!”

Ironically, that came from Sokka and Aang – before they faint.

*******

**Zuko**

I _seriously_ hope my teeth don’t leave permanent marks on the sleeve of my coat, my screams come out muffled as I bite it.

“You know, I’m starting to think you just have a pain kink,” Sokka doesn’t seem very concerned about me just snooping around the tent the Air Nomads raised for us so I could be treated. “Not that I am judging, but…”

“Shut up and bring me some more Chaang!” I snap at him. I need something to help me fight the pain.

“ _No!_ ” Katara accentuates, applying some more Air Nomad medicine at the borders of my arm’s wound. (It’s a heated oil called Tza-chug[1].) (Heated. _Oil!_ ) “I certainly _don’t_ need you injured _and_ drunk!”

“You sure you don’t want some Raksi[2]?” Sokka queries as if his sister didn’t even speak. “I heard it is a bit stronger…”

“Sokka!” she reprimands.

“ _And_ that it has antiseptic properties,” he finalizes.

“I think we’re just fine with the Tza-chug and this medicated bath[3], thank you very much.” She continues applying the oil around the edges of skin and washes the inside of the cut with the water of the tub into which I’m bathing. (Not with all of my clothes off, if you’re wondering.)

It was a suggestion from the Air Nomads part once we arrived back at their village since it wasn’t… under any immediate threat anymore. They arranged a tent to enclose a bathtub – it’s not really any different from the other ones, they don’t live in small tents; it’s medium-sized, enough for a person to reside, I suppose – and prepared me a bath with savine leaves, cypress branches, and other herbs that I didn’t recognize. They said it would purify my blood and promote its course which I needed for the cut, and recover the function on my useless arm[4].

Katara returns it into the tub. (I can’t move it by myself, the pain is too much.)

I feel so _pathetic_! I can’t even move my own arm, I had to remove my other bandages and take off my shirt for the bath and now my scars are showing making me look like the helpless deformed freak that I am; _and_ , to make matters worse, Katara and Sokka just fucking _refuse_ to leave my side no matter what! Why can’t they just leave me _alone_?

“Splash some more water on your back,” Katara’s voice is way too gentle for the situation as she carefully pushes me to unglue my bruised back from the tub’s walls, pouring the water herself, “Your bruises need some ‘blood flow help’, too.”

“Thanks,” I say nearly without intending to when she lets go of me. “How’s Aang?”

“Last time I checked, he was still asleep,” Sokka clarifies, “It makes sense, that injury _really_ shook him.”

“Just like it shook _you_?” I deadpan.

“Hey, at least _I_ made a plan where nobody ended with their flesh teared open!” he snaps.

“It’s not _tear open_ ,” I grind out, “I made sure to not cut any veins or blood vessels.”

“Oh, how reassuring of you, your _Avatarness_!” he counters, “ _‘I butchered myself but nothing vital’_. I didn’t see anyone get butchered _at all_ with _my_ plan.”

“That’s because none of you had to get into the Avatar State to stop the avalanche!”

“The Avatar what?” he arches an eyebrow, looking more curious than angry.

“The Avatar State,” I repeat, a bit calmer (anger makes my muscles to tense increasing the ache), “When I was… like that, I somehow… knew things that the other Avatars knew. I had their memories. They called the whole thing with the glowing eyes ‘The Avatar State’.”

He considers this. “The Avatar State… It sounds good,” he concludes. “But that aside, was it _totally_ necessary that you stabbed yourself for that?”

“So far, it has only activated to preserve my body when it is in danger, right? What other option did I have?”

“Coming with us so nobody would have had to _bleed to death_!”

“I didn’t – ”

“I don’t fucking _care_ what you did or what you didn’t!” he squeals. “Or actually, I _do_ because what you _did_ was prove me right, and as satisfying as that is, I would have preferred it if nobody had _bled_ in the process!”

“Why do you even _care_?” I growl.

Katara explodes: “ _Because we are a team, Zuko!_ ”

She has been angry all along, ever since she first found me; I could see that, I could feel it in the way she touched me. But she just kept treating my injuries and insisted on staying with me – (I don’t understand why) – but now she’s just fuming. 

“Intertwined destines, remember?” she says. “We are supposed to work together. You don’t leave us in the dark to get yourself killed while we worry sick for you – You _don’t_ leave us, period. Not if you want us to stick around. There are two very clear sides of this: either we _are_ with you… or we are _not_.”

I don’t get a chance to answer before the aperture of the tent opens:

“Am I interrupting anything?” Monk Gyatso glances at the three of us in a row.

Sokka, Katara and I exchange a three way look. Our three voices pronounce a collective “No.”

Monk Gyatso’s nod is not exactly convinced, but he proceeds: “I just came to thank the three of you for saving our village, and for taking care of my young pupil. I have never seen Aang with this level of fondness for anyone.”

I stutter. “We… um…”

“It was nothing,” Sokka catches me.

“Oh, it was a lot,” Monk Gyatso reassures, before turning to me: “It might not seem like it, but the village is thankful to you, young Avatar Zuko.”

“I… I don’t deserve those thanks,” I say, “I’m the one that provoked the avalanche and – ”

“According to what has been testified to me, you were acting in self-defense, and trying to reach for your friends,” he debates.

“Yes, but I… I…”

“Zuko, just take the compliment,” Sokka presses.

“Right. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Gyatso assures with an easy smile. “I must say I’m quite surprised to meet the current Avatar, Aang certainly has a good eye for choosing his friends.” He chuckles. “And I’ve been meaning to ask, what brings you around the Southern Air Nomads parts?”

Katara explains him, “We came to visit the Southern Air Temple to see if there was anything that could help Zuko learn airbending.”

Points to Gyatso for not even flinching at the revelation that I’m an untrained Avatar: “Oh, so you are looking for a teacher.”

“You could say,” I mumble.

“I hope you don’t believe that I am overstepping,” he excuses himself, as if embarrassed, “but I would be honored to become your airbending master.”

“ _What?_ ” (That was very clear despite the fact that Sokka, Katara and I spoke at the same time once more.)

Sokka accidentally tumbles down some other cups of medicine, and the water from my bath splashes everywhere for how brusquely I move. Katara comes steady me before I slip and dip my own head into the water.

“Or let me correct myself, Aang and I would be honored to be your airbending masters,” Gyatso keeps going as if he didn’t see or hear anything, “Him and I are very close, and he’s the best young airbender around.”

“You want to teach me?” I push the astonished words through coughs of water.

“Of course! You and your friends are more than welcome to stay at the village until your training is done.”

_Excuse me?_

“Um… I don’t think we have the best relationship with one of the Council of Elders already.”

“I assure you Monk Tashi has been severely chastised for his actions,” Gyatso holds a hand as if to stop me from declining. “And I may have insisted slightly too hard, enough for him to begrudgingly agree with my request. The Avatar _is_ the one destined to bring balance to the world.”

My teeth click. “Right.”

“Then it is settled!” He claps his hands. “This will be your new tent, I already arranged for your luggage to be brought here,” he opens the entrance of the tent further to show my bags already outside.

My eyes grow. “Where did you – ”

“I took it out from your dragon’s seat – he is now resting with the bisons at their stables – Katara’s and Sokka’s are in their own, newly arranged tents at each side of this one.”

They exchange a look between each other, and go peek outside.

“Holy Spirits, it’s true!”

“You all better go get some rest,” Gyatso advices. “It’s been a long night.”

“You could say that again, Mister Monk.” Sokka’s the first one to get out towards his tent.

“Sokka!” Katara huffs, and apologizes to Gyatso. “I’m sorry, my brother’s manners are awful.”

“It’s okay, young lady. Your tent is the one at the left side, by the way, I hope it is of your taste. Beautiful and helpful ladies deserve only the best.”

Katara smiles indulgently, but it vanishes once she glances at me.

My stomach tightens once more, but this time with a different feeling. A different fear.

“Maybe I should stay to keep taking care of Zuko – ”

“No,” I interrupt her, “It’s okay, Katara. I have all the medicines and the medical supplies here and my injuries are already better, I’ll take care of them by myself.”

She hesitates. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” _No_.

Her nod is curt. “Okay. Good night.”

“Good night,” I say at the empty spot after she exits.

Gyatso is being too kind by pretending he doesn’t see or hear a thing. “I will leave your bags here, Avatar Zuko,” he gets them inside. “Have a good night!”

“Good night,” I tell the empty tent.

*******

Should I get rid of all of these? Everything in my bag is clearly Fire Nation. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I first packed up, it feels like it was too long ago – because it _was_ , it was a hundred years ago… but I remember I loved my country.

I was sad that I had to leave, I wanted to carry things that would reminisce me of it. And now…

I mostly packed clothes, and for what I’ve learned, these won’t make me look like the most trustworthy Avatar.

I’ve never been the most trustworthy anything, but I don’t want to be… what… what I saw in the Air Nomads eyes when they looked at me. I don’t want to be that terror. I am _not_ …

_But you are._

Shut up, Dad!

My hands fly to my head, I am alone.

I am alone, I am alone, I am alone.

The thought doesn’t calm me, it gives me nausea. I am alone; no father, no mother, no brother, no master, no country.

_You are the one that drove them away. They abandoned you._

No, they didn’t – they wouldn’t. You lied to me.

_Did I? You sure you didn’t want this, this world that you created?_

No! I didn’t do this, I’m not like this – You can’t turn me into this, you can’t turn me into _you_!

Without noticing, my fist crashes against the bag. Everything is red and black. There are Fire Nation flags and gears, red like my own blood. I _do_ come from that… but I… I…

“Hey, Zuko. Are you busy?” Aang’s head glimpses inside my tent.

I blink. “Oh, hey, Aang!” I try to push everything into the bag. “Um, no. What’s up?”

He steps inside and kneels on the floor in front of me.

“You already bandaged your injury,” he observes, pointing at the binding surrounding my left bicep.

“Yes…” I say, reaching to cover it, “How you feeling, though? Last that I heard you were still asleep.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, I always faint when I see blood.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Anyway, I came to thank you personally for… you know… saving my life and everyone.”

“I didn’t…”

“You were amazing tonight!” he continues, it almost seems like he didn’t hear me. “All the rocks were coming and you went right to get them and then you made that huge fire and then those earth stages,” he keeps making some pronounced, effusive gestures with his arms as he speaks, “And you were just… _Whoa!_ You’re my _hero_!”

I freeze.

Aang’s eyes _really_ are sparkling while they look at me. They are looking at me directly, face to face, up-close, and they are truly lighted up with hope and admiration. (He has a weird eye color, they are gray with hazel and brown touches at the edges.)

I can’t be that bad if someone like him doesn’t fear me, right? If someone like him can think of me that way…

Right?

**Gyatso**

I read once more the letter in my hands with the Southern Water Tribe symbol:

阿凡達回來了

_“The Avatar has returned.”_

The ink of my answer saws through the paper, the words read themselves decisive:

阿凡達到了

_“The Avatar has arrived.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Tza-chug: Is a treatment in Tibetan Medicine that has been used for thousands of years. It consists in natural oils combined with different herbs including turmeric and ginger and then heated for then being applied to the affected area of the body. It helps to relieve nerve pain and symptoms of skeletal-muscular injuries. 
> 
> [2] Raksi: A traditional distilled alcoholic beverage. A strong drink, clear like vodka or gin.
> 
> [3] Medicated Bath: The most popular therapeutic of Tibetan Medicine. Tibetan Medicine is deeply linked to Tibetan Buddhism and for that it holds the concept of the Four Noble Truths (to know the true nature of suffering; to know the true cause of suffering; to know the true end of suffering; to know the true path to end suffering.) According to the Second Truth by Lord Buddha, the true causes of suffering are the three poisons of mind Desire, Hatred, and Resistance to the Truth; which cause imbalance in the three biochemical humors of the body Loong, Tripa and Begen (Wind, Bile, Phlegm) and the imbalance leads to disorders and diseases. The Medicated Bath helps to dispel Phlegm once it has been disturbed by Resistance to the Truth, and promotes blood circulation by removing blood stasis.
> 
> [4] Tibetan Medicated bath is mainly based on savine leaves, cypress branches, Chinese ephedra, yellow cuckoo and wormwood, supplemented with more than 30 kinds of rare medical materials. It works to purify blood, soften connective tissues, recover the function of joints and improve immunity.


	15. Chapter 十四: You promise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Start operation demisexual!Zuko :-)

**Zuko**

_It is hard to recount what I remember from that day, everything comes to my mind like a very vivid fantasy. If I reached out and touched it, it would not be real._

_Except for the walls of the Agni Kai Chamber. I recall them solid, deep garnet red; darkened for the dimness in the hall. They were surrounded by dark shadows…_

_It is strange, I remember the chamber to be big but I can only picture it like a small box, suffocatingly so. With golden accoutrements to accentuate the irony. The only lights were the ones of the torches. And then from the fire –_

“What the – ” I wake up with a start at the… _explosion_ of a Tsugi Horn, apparently!

I don’t bother putting on a shirt for going to see what in the name of Agni is happening outside!

“What the actual hell!” Sokka and Katara don’t look very happy about being woken by it either.

Both are wearing their sarashis, Katara wraps herself in a blanket to come outside. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders…

“Good morning, my young Avatar pupil!”

I nearly yelp at Gyatso’s voice!

Aang is right next to him playing – trying to play – a Tsugi Horn. Gyatso gestures for him to cut it out.

“It is time to start your airbending training,” Gyatso indicates. He is calm and cheery before my outraged stare.

“And couldn’t you wake him _alone_ for that?” Sokka demands. “Don’t you see that I get eye bags when I don’t sleep enough?”

And he makes a big deal out of pointing at them for emphasizing; they are like _real_ dark bags filled with only Agni knows what. Aang, Katara, and I cringe at the view.

“I assure you that it will be the most beneficial if all four of you are present for the training.” (What is it with Gyatso and his permanent… whatever it is that he is so calm is infuriating!) “Go get ready for breakfast, Aang will be the one to get you to the training area afterward.”

And he leaves without further announcement, his steps are unearthly graceful.

“Good morning, friends!” Aang greets us. “Sorry for waking you up like that, I’m terrible with the Tsugi Horn.”

Sokka is still irate: “And then why did you start playing in the first place?”

Katara stomps on her brother’s foot. “What Sokka meant, Aang is that, with practice, you’ll get better in no time!”

“Really?” ( _Ugh!_ It is way too early for his sparkly eyes!) “I’ll practice every day so I can dedicate you a song, Katara!”

He attempts to start right on the spot; I cover the horn’s mouthpiece with my bare hand.

“Great, but can you practice far, _far_ away from here?” I request.

The memory of the torture of a concert that he gave is still fresh in all of our memories, his included. “Right. I’ll see you after breakfast, I’ll go meet you in the dining area. You guys are still guests, so don’t worry, everybody will be more than happy to serve you your meal.”

 _I doubt it_ , I say to myself.

Aang leaves – taking some much-appreciated distance before resuming his Tsugi Horn practice – and Sokka drags his feet back to his tent, growling.

Katara stays outside with me, though not looking any less sleepy. She yawns. “Hey, you, you,” her finger pokes at my side, “How are your injuries doing?”

I start pulling the bandage on my left bicep down, but Katara is impatient to see stepping closer to me, pushing herself up on the tips of her toes and holding on to my right arm for support. She peeks at what is visible of the wound from over the border of the white fabric and I shudder faintly at her proximity.

“It still needs treatment,” she observes, oblivious to my mild freak-out, and lets go of my arm to step back. “Last night we used all of the Tza-chug, so I asked for some more before I went to sleep. Go wait for me inside your tent while I go look for it.”

Now she does leave. It takes me some time to process what just happened before entering my tent.

Should I try to order the inside a bit better before she comes? Oh, Spirits, last night I put too many Fire Nation regalia around, should I put it down? It probably will make Katara feel uncomfortable. Do I even have time to put it all down before she gets here? How much time do I have again?

“Zuko?”

Not much.

“Yeah, come in!” I say at the time I rip down the Fire Nation flag I hanged and use it as a sac for other figurines and portraits. I push it all behind one of my bags.

Katara steps insides… still in her sarashi, and now without the blanket covering her.

I gulp.

She is carrying that anger I perceived last night, ignoring me. Maybe it is stronger this time since I didn’t give an answer about any of us being a team. (What is exactly a team anyway? I never needed a team for anything.)

“C’mon, sit down,” her voice snaps me back to reality, “It’s better if you’re not tensed up.”

 _Right._ I go to sit on my sleeping mat.

Katara kneels in front of me, bringing two vials and more cloth to serve as bandages, and she unwraps all of the bandages from my arms herself.

“I also saved some of the water from the medicated bath to wash the cut and keep helping your blood flow,” she says. “Just relax.”

_I am… trying._

Katara has to continuously lean closer to reach for the stab at my upper arm, her hot breath crashes against my collarbone when she does so. Her hands travel through my arms to wash my still-healing burns, too; her fingers flutter over my palms. Then she circles to put some water over the bruises on my back.

My hands are shaking. _Why_ are they shaking?

“Geez, Zuko. Calm down, I’m not going to _jump_ you.”

I freeze.

“You… You noticed?” I ask.

“It’d kinda hard not to,” she circles back to in front of me, “After I told you to relax but you got anxious _and_ shivery.”

“Sorry.”

“But I’m surprised,” she says with sarcastic delicacy, “I supposed you’d be an _expert_ with girls.”

 _What?_ I scoff. “Why… Why would you think that?” (My breath is coming out in heavy puffs, I don’t know if I am trying to laugh or just breathe.) “Who do you take me for? I… I am a gentleman.”

Her answer is to lean forward with a mischievous smirk on her face. “Is that so?...”

I reel back.

It is _her_ turn to scoff, yet it sounds much more natural and laid-back than me. “You’re such a prude.”

“I am not! I just… I just…”

“Whatever.” She is back to ignoring me.

A weird uneasiness twists my insides. It is…

Even though she is touching me, she is afar, isolated. Her eyes are off, dim; and her expression is stony. I can’t tell if this that I feel is a need to fix it, or the guilt over being the one that caused it. Perhaps both of them, perhaps the reason why I feel that I _want_ to fix it is only that I feel guilty. But no, that is not it. I _do_ want to solve this – to… to make Katara not be angry at me anymore – and I _do_ feel guilty for angering her; I…

“Katara, I…”

“I’m so mad at you!” she snaps.

“Okay.”

We stare at each for a long moment after that, Katara frowning directly at my face and me trying to figure out what to say next.

She beats me at that; she is _fuming_ : “Do you have _any_ idea how worried I was last night? How worried I am _every time_ you go off without telling me – any of us – what are you gonna do, if you have a plan or you simply are going to throw some fire and wait for the best? You _don’t_! And I wouldn’t want you to know because it is _horrible_! I feel physically _sick_ , Zuko, when I see you jump ‘head first to the danger’!” she repeats Sokka’s words from last night. “And I really, really, _really_ hate you when you do that because I _care_! I care about what happens to you!”

“So it makes me hate you _more_ when you cause unnecessary damage to yourself on top of everything!” she proceeds, “Never do that again, okay? _Never._ Promise you’ll never do it again!” 

Her eyes are boiling with fury. A shadow of lightning courses through her face wild, indomitable, and igniting thousands of different feelings at once.

The only thing that wakes from my shock is my voice, while my eyes remain fixed on hers. “I promise.”

Katara does not back down from her livid stance just immediately, it is slow like she was freeing herself from being caged into stone; it is rigid, but charged with real strength. When she returns to herself, there is no longer lightning in her face, only sunbeam. She irradiates light.

“Well, I’m glad that we settled that.” She timidly brushes back a strand of her hair, “Sorry if I was too harsh, I just get very worried.”

“No, no, I… I understand.” (I _don’t_. Nobody had ever gotten angry on my behalf!)

“We better get ready for breakfast,” she goes on to put on new bindings over my arms, “You need to eat well and be prepared for your training.”

When she is done, she stands, taking the vials with her. “See you there.”

I watch her exit the tent. And as soon as she does I let myself fall back on the mat _exhausted_.

Am I attracted to Katara?

I don’t _think_ that I am. Shouldn’t I feel different if I _was_ attracted to her?

How does attraction feel like? It had never happened to me before – or I do not _think_ it had happened to me before! I mean, Azulon used to make fun of me for not being interested in girls in _that_ way.

 _Am I_ interested in Katara in _that_ way?

I mean, _objectively speaking_ , Katara is… she… she is… _nice_ to look at – I mean, her… her features are… they… they blend nicely with each other – I mean…

I growl. Close my eyes, pass a hand down my face; I picture Katara just a moment ago. She reminded me of the sun – the sun of all things – because she glows, and she is warm, and because her hair and her skin shine golden under the light.

 _Objectively speaking_ … there aren’t reasons for me to _not_ be attracted to her. But does that mean I _am_?

“Zuko!”

“Coming,” I say.

I incessantly shake my head as I dress up. _That is impossible_ , I think.

_That is impossible._


	16. Chapter十五: White Jasmine

**Katara**

_Tell me he isn’t chewing with an open mouth, tell me he isn’t chewing with an open mouth, tell me he isn’t chewing with an open mouth._

I glance from beneath my ungloved hands covering my unflatteringly flushed face; Sokka _is_ chewing with an open mouth. _Ugh!_

The girls that served us our breakfast observe in equal dismay each, although disgust grows gradually between the three of them from the one on my right to the one on my left and directly facing Sokka; she’s utterly repulsed. I give an apologetic look at all of them, I _swear_ I did my best to teach him manners.

“Uh… We…” one of them – the one in the middle facing me – stutters, “We better leave you to finish your meal alone. Enjoy!”

They quite literally _run_ off and my face falls to my hands again. (How am I supposed to make new friends if my brother keeps embarrassing me like this?)

My brother, who is incapable of taking a hint! “Was it my cologne?”

I glare at him, but my head spins to Zuko’s voice before I can mutter an answer – (if a comment like Sokka’s _deserves_ one.)

“Yes, Sokka, it sure was that,” Zuko assures mockingly.

“I thought so. Girls are weird.”

“Excuse me?” I nearly shriek. “Would it _kill_ you to spend _two_ minutes without insulting girls?”

“It’s not insulting, it’s just straight facts. Girls make a big fuss over nothing, guys are easier to understand. Right, Zuko?”

“In the Fire Nation we respect women, Sokka,” Zuko says like the words came as natural to him as breathing, “We don’t talk that way about them.”

“Really?” I gape. (It’s not that I’m not glad but… _Really?_ )

“Really?” Sokka parrots. “Then how the hell you guys are so ahead in the war?”

I punch him on his shoulder.

“ _Ouch!_ ”

“Did you just said _ouch_ over the hit of a _girl_?”

He _pffts_. “Of course not. That’s… That’s just my bad shoulder.”

 _You don’t have a ‘bad shoulder’._ “Then should I try on your _good_ shoulder?”

His answer is panicky. “ _No!_ ”

Zuko laughs.

“What are _you_ laughing about?” Sokka scowls.

“The accuracy of your knowledge in girls.”

Sokka takes another huge bite of Chetang Goiche – there are only so many things he’s willing to eat considering Air Nomad’s customary vegetarianism. “Oh, and…” (chews) “and I’m supposed to assume…” (chews) “that you are what, an expert in girls?”

“Oh, no, Sokka,” I tell him. “You’re right to _not_ make that assumption.”

Zuko wasn’t acting very _expertly_ earlier and, for the look on his face, he remembers quite well. For the grin on _my_ face, I make sure he knows I remember, too.

“Zuko’s a _gentleman_ ,” I say, echoing said gentleman’s words from before, and returning his stare. “Right, Zuko?”

He says nothing, only watches me smile back; his stare slowly, but almost imperceptibly, turns from unamused to contemplating, studying me. A little too softly, like he was roaming and memorizing all of my features even if as far as I can see his eyes never go anywhere away from mine.

His tunnel vision is focused directly on me.

Somebody clears their throat. It’s Sokka – Sokka, my big brother, whose eyes are shooting back and forth between Zuko and me.

I barely get to register the heat on my cheeks before whipping my head away. Zuko and I mumble something incoherent apologizing for… whatever it was that we were doing – not that we were doing anything!

“ _Aaaaaaaanywayssssssssssss_ …” Sokka stretches exaggeratedly, “You sure you can handle airbending training with a chopped arm, fiery boy?”

Zuko glowers, his words come out rage-charged.

“ _It is not…_ ” He stops himself, inhales. “I will be fine. I already recovered the mobility, and the medicine is acting properly.”

“Shouldn’t you eat some more before the training?” I ask, eyeing his unfinished meal.

“It is better if I don’t stuff myself too much, I don’t know what kind of workout Gyatso has in mind.”

Sokka chips in: “You mean I can finish that for you?”

My sigh and Zuko’s eye-roll appear synchronized. “Sure, why not?” he passes Sokka the plate.

“Are you sure you don’t need to eat?” I press.

“Don’t worry about that, in any case, my regular workout consists of small meals.”

My eyes glide down to his arms. _You don’t say_ , I think.

Whatever push-ups form part of his regular workout are giving fruits, I can notice since he is not wearing his coat today, his sleeveless shirt discovers his arms… and the binds hide his injuries.

Our conversation this morning did quieten the anger I’d been feeling since last night, I thought it would make me feel better right after.

It hadn’t, not much.

The anger didn’t quite leave, it only mixed with guilt, making it heavy and hurtful. How crazily stupid can he be to cause himself that much damage? How crazily stupid can _I_ be to _not_ have done something more to stop him last night? In the Water Tribe, I always take care of everyone, no one _ever_ gets hurt. What on Earth happened to me this time? It’s a miracle Zuko’s arms are still functioning!

His skin is very pale, it’s almost indistinguishable from the white cloth around his muscles. (Perhaps only a _bit_ rosier?)

“Hey, aren’t those Aang and the kids that always mess with him?”

Zuko and I follow the direction to which Sokka’s pointing, they _are_ Aang and the kids that always mess with him. None of them looks happy, but for different reasons, and it makes my blood boil.

Surprisingly, Zuko is faster to respond than me: “Let’s go say hi real quick.”

He launches himself to go to them, and it takes me a moment to pass the daze and follow. Sokka takes longer trying to recollect all the food we left behind.

The Air Nomads gather to eat out in the open, around separated small bonfires for preparing the tea and heating the food when needed, in enough of a clear area for it to _not_ be so much of a secret when you bully someone – surely for it to not be a good idea to do so when his friends are around.

“Are you sure Monk Gyatso doesn’t want you in the training only for kicking you out of the monastery, Aang?” one of the boys mock.

The other is quick to join, “And for sending you flying along with that firebender that you brought?”

“Are you talking about _me_?” Zuko cuts them out placing himself in front of them and shielding Aang with his body.

I embrace Aang in a protective hug; he doesn’t look exactly bothered by his resident bullies, just annoyed. It quickly turns into a triumphant, grateful smile once we appear.

The other Air Nomad boys sputter, somehow with their gazes frozen in Zuko, but also looking for a fast way out of this. (Typical.) “We… uh… We were…”

“Leaving?” Zuko concludes. “You were leaving?”

“Yeah! We were…”

“Then start leaving in _that_ way.” He points to the opposite direction to where Aang, me, and now Sokka are standing behind his back. (Sokka is posing as if he was a backup thug or something.)

It’s all the mean kids need for running as swift as they can.

“Thanks for the help, guys!” Aang’s hyper, almost bouncing in his place.

Sokka wants to take credit despite his late arrival. “No worries, lil’ bud!”

“You okay, Aang?” I ask.

“Never been better! Probably because I never had you guys here before,” he’s talking too fast, it’s hard to keep track of his words. “Now, c’mon, the lesson with Gyatso is about to start! Just follow me!”

He uses his bending to create an airball that takes him into the forest at high speed, leaving us behind. Sokka begrudgingly follows. I take advantage of the sudden moment of solitude to say:

“You’re a sweet guy, Zuko.”

(He’s not convinced.) “You think?”

(But I am.) “Yes.”

*******

I can’t shake off the weird feeling that keeps growing in me the more we walk towards the training area.

It is too far away from the camp and too deep into the forest for it to be comfortable.

In perspective, I guess it could be for having more privacy and avoiding accidents, but still. There’s this energy seemingly trying to push us away and luring us in the more we advance into the trees. The colors become brighter, the snow on the ground blindingly white, and the green from the scarce tree leaves and moss practically incandescent. The aura of liveliness floats in the air too overwhelming. It doesn’t make me feel uneasy – (maybe a little) – yet it’s more like something in me rejects it. Something dark in me.

“You guys are feeling the spiritual energy already?” Aang wonders, returning and circling around Zuko, Sokka, and me with his airball.

“Spiritual energy?” I repeat, focusing more on how Aang is the only one of us that doesn’t seem affected by the atmosphere.

Sokka and Zuko keep glancing around warily, and they are slightly hunched like they are trying to hide from whatever it is that’s creeping around these woods.

“There are sacred places all over these mountains,” Aang explains, still immersed in his spinning. “This forest is one of them. Before the war, Spirits used to wander around here, and they left some of their essence behind. The monks can feel it and remain at ease because of their great spirituality, for the rest of us it takes some getting used to it.”

“You _are_ a monk, Aang,” I insist.

“Not one at Gyatso’s level.” He gasps. “I forgot I had to take you to the training with Gyatso! Quick, follow me!”

He speeds profounder into the forest.

“How did he forget – ” Sokka starts.

Zuko cuts him off. “Let’s just go.”

We move forward and we keep finding trails of dispersed rocks covered by the snow. It is only when I look at the most shallowly buried ones that I see they are not ordinary rocks, they are concrete blocks forming some kind of path towards the center of the forest. To smooth rock-formation shaping a stage where Gyatso is meditating.

The place is circled by huge tree roots and next to a construction in ruins untouched by the aura of life I was feeling; it emanates an aura of stillness instead.

“What’s this?” Sokka inquires with a newfound interest in the edifice tangled in tree branches. (I should have guessed he would ask about the creepiest thing at eyesight.)

“It is a second entrance to the Southern Air Temple,” Gyatso is the one to answer, his eyes open slowly. “It is the way our ancestors used to escape the Fire Nation when they first attacked.”

Zuko looks away. From all of us.

“Very well,” Gyatso recovers his usual, smoothly cheerful appearance as he stands, “Thanks for bringing everyone here, Aang.”

Aang continues to twirl in circles with his personal airball’s help until Gyatso uses his bending to split the air Aang’s using in a half and physically still him in place with his hands gently grabbing Aang’s shoulders.

Aang flushes, awareness lighting up his eyes. “Sorry.”

“It is alright,” Gyatso reassures. Then looks up at Zuko, “Ready for your lesson, young Avatar?”

“Shouldn’t he wear airbender clothes for this?” Sokka teases. “Like some of Aang’s mini shawls or something?”

He laughs at his own joke until Zuko flicks him on the forehead with visibly red fingers.

“Truth is, I do not want to disconnect you from your native element, Zuko,” Gyatso explains ignoring the scene, “You will need to be in close contact with yourself to master airbending.”

Zuko stays quiet for a few more seconds. Before muttering: “I am not looking forward to that.”

***

Now that I think about it… we _should_ have known airbending classes would involve a whole lot of meditation.

“I am sick and tired of this!” Zuko snaps for the… third time? “When do I start with the _actual_ training?”

“This _is_ training,” Gyatso insists with his imperturbable voice maintaining his lotus pose, “You must reach peace of mind before mastering airbending.”

“I don’t need any peace of mind, I need to master airbending right _now_!”

“You could follow the example of your friend Sokka. He has been quiet since he joined our meditation session.”

Not exactly ‘quiet’; he’s snoring – has been for the past half hour.

“Well, for me it looks like he is asleep,” Zuko notes.

Gyatso opens one eye. “Really?”

“I don’t have fucking time for this!” Zuko explodes. “I’m leaving!”

And he makes good on his word.

“I’m gonna talk to him,” I say already standing up. Not without adding: “And, for the record, Sokka _is_ asleep.”

***

“Zuko, wait!” He has gained ground since he left the stage. “Where are you even going?”

“I don’t know,” he snarls.

_Well, thanks for your honesty._

“Do you mind at least slowing down? Not all of us have firebending super-heat to melt the snow with every angry step we take.”

I watch him stop dead on his tracks before he can take another of those angry steps, (I’m sure his leather boots aren’t appreciating the humidity so far.) The good thing is that he stays there just enough for me to catch up.

Under other circumstances, it would have been sweet that he waited till I was next to him to keep walking; now, it’s just proof of his stubbornness. 

“Listen, you won’t learn any airbending throwing fits in the forest,” I say as we keep moving.

“I won’t learn any airbending _just_ meditating either.”

“Haven’t you thought Gyatso is the master here and _he_ is the one that knows how to do things?”

“Masters take _action_ for their apprentices to learn.”

There is the load of a memory in his phrase that I don’t know how to address, but I see Zuko’s shoulders fall struggling to carry the burden.

Something crashes, and we halt and turn towards it.

Some people from the village appear to be returning from the forest carrying a bag with supplies, or _trying to_ would be more accurate. The bag they were using teared itself, letting tree branches roll in all directions and wool to fall like the snow itself.

Some of the branches trundle our way and Zuko picks them up – only to be stopped by the Air Nomads.

“ _Don’t touch them!_ ” Their irate scream is louder than the sound of the twigs hitting each other.

Zuko’s unsaid pain speaks louder than both with his expression alone.

“We mean…” their looks are not quite remorseful once they approach us, only soft enough to ease the biggest sting, “It’s not necessary, we got them.”

They practically rip the branches from Zuko’s arms like he was… well… about to set them on fire.

I flinch.

“I’m sorry,” I say, putting a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, “My friend only wanted to help.”

“Thanks,” they say my way, giving Zuko slicing, suspicious glances. “But we are fine, honestly.”

“Are you sure? It looks like it weighs a lot.”

“Yes, we are fine.” They are still struggling to carry the branches.

I bite my lip, but quickly curve it into a smile. “Maybe it will be easier to carry if we were more people.”

And I add: “ _I_ would like to help, too.”

They stare at me, then at Zuko, and back at me; hesitation is written all over their faces. Hesitation and distrust. (I think it’s only luck they end up agreeing.)

“Okay.”

I brighten and thank them for the chance, then I take Zuko’s hand. (I’m not exactly sure if it is for comforting him or for guiding him through this new attempt at socializing.) (Perhaps it is for keeping him from walking away again, or maybe it is for comforting myself and keeping alive a tad of hope that I’m truly helping him in some way.) (Even if what I’m doing is rather small.)

The Air Nomads instruct us how to carry the branches and the wool, and we take it back to the campsite. Once we arrive, they thank me.

Me alone. Not Zuko.

I beam and tell them it was nothing, but I apologize once I face Zuko. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” he asks, although something tells me he already knows the answer.

“I couldn’t make things easier for you.”

He is quiet for a few breathes. “Thanks for trying.”

It doesn’t take long for him to continue: “You are very good with people. I mean, in… diplomatic matters.”

I brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thanks, I suppose. My mom taught me, she always knew how to treat everyone when she was Chief.”

“Your mother was Chief?” he’s surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you didn’t ask, Mister _I-call-people-peasants-as-an-introduction_ ,” I recall with a tiny smirk.

( _Recall_ is the word.) (It feels like that was centuries ago.)

The memory and the distance of it pass through Zuko’s face, too, and for once he’s not willing to argue with whatever anyone says. “Fair enough, I deserved that.”

“You do, but that’s another talk,” I say. “Speaking about talk, is there… _anything_ bothering you about airbending training?”

“You mean aside from the useless methods and the slow development?”

“Yes.”

He _obviously_ didn’t expect so much of a straightforward reply. (What can I say? Endless sarcasm and irony are more Sokka’s thing.)

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs and tries to leave once more.

And, once more, I take his hand. This time indeed to keep him from running away. “It must be something if it is affecting you.”

“You don’t get it.”

I squeeze his hand. “Then explain it to me.”

The hesitation I saw in the Air Nomads looks different in Zuko, both came from vulnerability and an unwillingness to let it show, but Zuko looks at me like he _wants_ to trust me and something is restraining him.

I squeeze his hand to tell him I _want_ to know, too. I want to trust _him_ , and I can’t do it if he doesn’t do the same for me.

He bites his lip. “There is… There is something I want to show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!! And if you’d like to know ways to help me keep writing, please, please, **PLEASE** see the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com


	17. Chapter 十六: Red Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this concludes the first quarter of the fic!! This was supposed to be up yesterday, but my Wi-Fi has been awful and I actually had to struggle with it for another hour in order to post this. Anyways, I hope you've enjoyed the road so far, and I'm excited for you to see what else I have planned for this story! Expect the next update (if the Wi-Fi feels cooperative) on Thursday, and if you'd like to know ways to help me keep writing, please, please, **PLEASE** see the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com

**Zuko**

I take Katara back to my tent.

My hand still tingles after she let go of it a while ago; I hold it to contain the trembling. Once we get there, I hold the entrance open for her to come in, and then go look for one of my bags as her eyes wander through the rest of the luggage I already unpacked.

“I didn’t think you carried so much stuff,” she mutters.

“They are not many,” I say, “I only took what I first found in my room back at the Palace.”

“Was your room this messy, too?” her question is joking. “It’s funny, I supposed princes would be obsessed with order and cleanness.”

“You could say that,” I say, roaming through more of my things, “But I was never the one that cleaned my room – or anything, really. The servants did it for me.”

It washes over me how unfair that sounds, how unfair it is in reality; guessing for Katara’s quiet hum, I would say she notices, too. (This is what happens when I don’t second-guess what to say, I say the exact wrong thing on the _first_ try!)

Pushing the feeling away, I take out what I was looking for.

“Remember when I told you about Roku?” I ask, coming closer to Katara, eyeing the portrait in my hands.

She nods.

“These are him and my father Sozin,” I give the picture to Katara.

She takes it delicately, looking down at it with an expression that is somewhere between indifferent and curious, but there is something more there. There is anger. Real rage, and fear. (Can’t say that I blame her, I was the one who said my father – the Fire Lord who started the war, the one that killed the Air Nomads, the one that got the Water Tribe raided – was in the picture, however, it makes me wonder…) (Does she see me like him? I am the one who didn’t stop him from doing any of it.)

(What does _that_ say about me?)

“This is Roku,” I point to him in the picture, the one with the longest beard and the widest eyes. “And this is my father,” I point to him next.

Her fingers touch his face in the painting, tracing his stony profile; her eyes go up to me. “You don’t look like him.”

I didn’t think relief could feel so… startling. It is as though it crashed against me, leaving me shaking greater than the lingering heat of Katara’s skin against mine.

I hold my hand yet again.

“I look like my mom,” I clarify, “But that is not the point. Roku and my father were close friends since they were kids, Roku was sort of an uncle-figure to me. Sometimes I indeed called him Uncle. He used to travel a lot, he visited each one of the four nations, and since I was little he told me one day he would take me on his trips because I had never left the Fire Nation. He never got to do it, he… disappeared.”

“What do you mean he disappeared?” Katara queries with big, shocked eyes.

I shrug, covering the powerlessness of not being able to give a proper answer. “One day he was gone. He never came back.”

“Oh, Heavens! I’m so sorry, Zuko – ”

“You know what my father told me after that?” I interrupt her, replaying the memory inside my head. “He said Roku was a traitor, that Roku was the kind of person I should _never_ become, and that I would only bring dishonor to myself and _him_ if I ever turned anything like Roku. Must have been another reason why he banished me.”

Her mouth falls open, stunned silence booms through the tent.

“Remember when Zhao called me a banished prince? My father was the one who _banished_ me from the Fire Nation. They don’t want me there.” I gesture around like I could encircle not only the Southern Air Nomad village but the rest of the world where I woke up a week ago and that hates me for thousands of different reasons. “And now I am here, and they don’t want me here either. Roku, my father, the Air Nomads, the _world_ ; I disappointed them all. I am a flawed Avatar – the one that can only bend _one_ element, the one who didn’t save anyone, not even the ones that were close to him. I don’t have _time_ to continue being that weak! That much coward! That much – ”

“Zuko.”

Before I get to notice – to even perceive the motions – Katara drops the portrait to the floor and her hands trap my jaw forcing me to look her straight in the eye. The tingle I felt when her hand touched mine spreads across my face, through my cheeks, and down my neck. The pleasing sensation is contrary to the anger coming from Katara, her face is fairly composed, but there is this frustration, a different anger than the one I felt directed towards my father. This one is… tender.

Sad.

“You’re not weak,” she emphasizes, “You’re not a coward. And you _are_ wanted here, _I_ want you here; the world _needs_ you here. Whatever happened a hundred years ago, you are here _now_. Everything is still here now, the people that you are still in time to save. Gran-Gran used to tell us stories about how the Southern Water Tribe was huge and powerful, the Fire Nation raids turned it into what it is today. But it is _still_ there, it means it can be rebuild. Everything can be rebuild. Things change, and not always for the better, but it doesn’t mean the changes you have yet to make can’t make the difference.”

I stare at her, I always do when she talks like this. Whenever she stands in front of me.

“How am I supposed to fix things if nobody gives me the chance?”

“It takes time to earn people’s trust,” she says, “that’s why you should be grateful to the ones that are willing to give it to you.”

Suddenly she realizes what she is doing and releases my face. Her fingers shudder as if wishing to keep the physical contact, but she ultimately pulls back.

“Oh… Well, uh… Sorry for dropping your picture.”

“No, no, never mind.”

We lean down for it at the same time and our fingers interlace by accident.

We withdraw at the same time as well.

Her voice is shaky: “Sorry.”

I, on my part, am trying to cool down the warmth on my face. “It is… alright.”

I take the portrait from the floor and put it aside.

“You ready to go back to the lesson with Gyatso?” Katara asks.

“Yes.”


	18. Chapter 十七: Learn from your elders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about starting the year with some familial vibes... which in this case, they translate into humor for us and frustration for the characters ':-D I was planning on posting this in a few days along with other chapters, but then I thought we deserved a laugh, then a little heartbreak and another laugh right away to celebrate 2021. Which reminds me...
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

**Gyatso**

_How to deal with angsty teenagers?..._

_How to deal with angsty teenagers?..._

_Could I keep Aang fourteen forever?_

_No, no, no, no. Growth is part of life’s journey._

_However…_

“We’re back!”

Miss Katara’s singsong voice interrupts my meditation session.

When I open my eyes, she and young Zuko are walking closer to the training platform. Judging by his body language and his facial expression, he is still unenthusiastic about being in this location preparing himself for more beginner’s airbending training. I suppose it is unlikely for Aang to grow from the cheery kid that he is now to that kind of scowling young man whose natural stance seems to be with his arms crossed over his chest, but I refuse to believe young Zuko could have displayed such an attitude in his early years.

It is not difficult to see he has had a challenging life. Humans do not get to endure as much pain as he has in these past days without being previously accustomed. 

“Thank you so much for bringing him back, Miss Katara,” I thank her.

“It was nothing.”

“Ready to continue your training, Zuko?”

His shoulders shrug without dropping his arms. “Whatever.”

 _We can make this work_ , I assure myself in my thoughts, _It will only take some time._

*******

**Zuko**

“This is _useless_!” I scream. “We have been here for _hours_ now!”

And would it _kill_ Gyatso to fucking react to _anything_? “Nobody said training didn’t require patience.”

He is still with that freaky, imperturbable voice, it is almost like he does it on purpose whenever I shout. ( _Is_ he doing it on purpose?) Now I am almost tempted to tell him that if he has something to say to me, he can say it to my face!

“Who do you think I am?” I argue. “Of course I know training needs patience! And I also know it requires _productivity_! Not sitting around with your eyes closed hoping to not fall asleep!”

“Meditating is so much more complicated than that.”

“He’s right, Zuko,” Aang chirps in. (He is sitting on a meditating pose as well, but has had his eyes opened for a while now.) “Meditating is about shutting down your senses, and allowing your inner self to take over. It’s about your feelings and the energy they carry.”

“ _Awwwwww!_ ” Katara looks delighted by his explanation. “That is so beautiful!”

Sokka isn’t though, (he woke up a while ago and since then he is lounging vaguely watching my nightmare of a meditation session from afar), “I don’t know, man. The part about shutting down your senses really doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Nor to me,” I admit.

“Great! We can add that to the ‘List of things Zuko and I agree on’,” he says, “Counting this one, we have, like, _two_ entries.”

“Kids,” Gyatso reprimands. “I need you to focus.”

“Focus on what?” I retort. “The darkness behind my eyelids?”

“Zuko, I am trying to teach you something here.”

“Again, _what_? Because I am definitely not learning a thing!”

“Perhaps it is because you are indeed not focusing.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you insinuating something?”

“It is not that. It is only that I see you are not working towards making contact with your inner self as Aang explained. If you did, it might give you very enlightening messages.”

“How many times do I have to say that I am not here for mere messages?”

It is like talking to a wall.

**Gyatso**

It is like talking to a tigerdillo.

In fact, I think a tigerdillo would be less ferocious in such uncalled situations. (Please, tell me not all teens support themselves on anger and sarcasm.)

_Breathe, Gyatso, breathe. This will be an enlightening experience for you as well._

“Perhaps, it is only that you lack the mental clearance to meditate efficiently,” I say, struggling to keep my voice collected.

(This kid is giving Tashi a run for his money at perturbing my inner peace.)

It truly is a stroke of luck that I have Aang. “Why don’t you focus more on your emotions instead of your thoughts, Zuko?” he suggests, “Emotions are not something that you think, they are something that you feel.”

“That’s a great idea, Aang!” I praise.

I’m so proud of him! And I am such a great father figure! Sure I can handle someone like Zuko!

“Alright, young Avatar Zuko. Tell us how you feel.”

“Angry.”

Miss Katara smacks her face with the palm of her hand, her brother only comments: “Figures.”

_Breathe, Gyatso, breathe._

“I see…” my words are a thin, softly sharp whisper.

“Well, there are also revelations and clearance in our memories,” I muse, “Why don’t you meditate on a significant memory of yours?”

“You must have some interesting memories if you’ve lived a hundred years,” Aang points out.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, how exactly did that work?” young Sokka inquires. “I mean, were you even _conscious_ while you were in that iceberg?”

“I don’t think so,” Zuko’s eyebrow and his scarred eye furrow in thought, “My last memories are from when I first left the Fire Nation.”

“When Sokka and I found you, you were in the Avatar State,” Miss Katara speaks in a reminiscing tone. “So far we have seen your body functions when you are like that, but you also said you can see memories from the past Avatars. Maybe you were running on their consciousness for all those years.”

Young Sokka’s eyes broaden. “Zuko, you’ve _got_ to remember something from those years!”

**Zuko**

“Why?” I ask, and it has a clear double sense: why is it so imperative for me to remember and why does Sokka look like he was borderline freaking out.

“Do you know if that Avatar Kyoshi girl fought the Fire Nation back in her days?”

I shake my head. “No.”

A buzzing, dizzying headache ensues; I start seeing words and hearing sounds that appear made by fog and coming through static. They are blurry. They are familiar like they were indeed memories, but it is only the recollection of a woman’s voice.

It ends when I form the words _She… didn’t… tell me._

“If she did,” Sokka continues, oblivious to my… whatever the heck it was, “Then we could get some more insight on how to deal with the Fire Nation and their weak spots.”

“From a century ago?” Katara notes. “I don’t think we that’s all viable of an option.”

“Then I assume you have a better idea, oh skilled strategist Katara,” Sokka mocks.

Gyatso cuts in: “Zuko is not ready to reach for his past lives yet, Sokka.”

“I can try,” I say.

“It will be futile,” Gyatso insists, “Your meditation abilities are still...”

For once he looks unsure, and as glad as I am to pull him out of his holier-than-thou demeanor, I don’t like that it is only to _‘tactfully’_ describe how I am a failure at yet _another_ thing. I should tell him to just spit it out, I can handle it. It is not like I haven’t had people saying much worse things to my face.

And over more important things than _meditation_!

“I can try,” I repeat, emphasizing.

I position myself on padmasana[1] yet again and focus on the only image I have from Avatar Kyoshi: the statue at the Southern Air Temple. Picture it as if I was in front of it and coming closer, close enough to see the small particles of dust and the texture of the granite.

The buzzing headache triggers itself again, but this time stronger.

_Zuko…_

I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the throbbing pain, forcing myself to focus on that voice that I hear when I think of Kyoshi. Chasing it.

_Zuko…_

I am growing dizzy yet again. My thoughts are shifting quickly, but incoherently, one moment I can see Kyoshi’s statue, the next one everything is pitch black. I see flickering flashes of light; when they come, I see red lips moving, a human shadow, a face whose features I can’t discern. When they go off, everything disappears.

 _Zuko_.

The pain grows, it is turning reddish-black behind my eyes, as I could already see the blood spreading from inside my head.

My eyes open, I wake up.

“Zuko, are you okay?”

“What was that about?”

Katara and Aang are at my sides, holding on to my shoulders and looking at me with apprehensive eyes while I pant and crumble down as if I had been running miles. Sokka and Gyatso watch without moving. Gyatso’s ‘I told you so’ stare is subtle. But it is _there_.

“I… um…” my lungs struggle to regain oxygen, “I think… I think Kyoshi talked to me…”

Sokka is the one to ask: “What did she say?”

“I don’t know,” I say in a short huff, “I couldn’t… I didn’t hear her.”

“Then how do you know she talked to you?” Katara wonders.

“I… I got the sound of her voice… But I couldn’t understand her words.”

“Seems like he has a mental blockage.” Aang is talking to Gyatso when he says that.

“I can see that as well,” he answers, “That is the reason why I was trying to teach you mental clearance. These kinds of experiences drain plenty of one’s energy if not done properly.”

“Great,” I bite out. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Would you like for us to continue the meditation session now?”

**Gyatso**

Aang and Katara step away from Zuko once he composes himself. His skin stays unhealthily pale, pearly due to the sweat. I sigh internally. This is what I was trying to avoid; how much could it cost him to only listen, to remain a bit patient?

Mayhap I am the one to blame, I have not employed the correct approach. I am not experienced in dealing with these… situations. And it is difficult to learn when Zuko is so unapproachable himself.

It makes me wonder: _what did you suffer? What hit you so hard now struggle to stand on your feet?_

I instruct him once more to meditate on a significant memory of his, hoping it will serve as a way to learn some about his past.

His eyes close and his asana[2] is flawless, however, his face slowly contorts into one of raw pain and terror, and… guilt.

He wakes up with another violent gasp. His skin is white as paper, he is shaking. He looks as though he had seen a ghost.

Maybe he did.

He stands. “I want to leave.”

“What’s wrong?”

This time, all three of his friends, Katara, Aang, _and_ Sokka, stand to reach for him, but Zuko retreats from them. His fear lingers, he is still shaking.

“I… I just… I don’t want to be here anymore. I need to leave. _Now_.”

“I think we can end the training for today,” I concede, standing, too. “I am sure we will get better results tomorrow.”

In reality, I doubt we will get results so soon. I wonder: _what caused such dense darkness to cloud your mind?_

“By the way, kids,” I add, “I do not want any of you to come near this area alone. This used to be part of a labyrinth with many traps to keep the intruders away from the temple. It is _very_ dangerous.”

***

**Zuko**

I whirl my dagger between my fingers while I lie down looking at my tent’s ceiling.

_Up and down._

_Inside, out._

It helps me think – think about the fiasco of an airbending lesson I had today.

I have beaten myself up for it ever since we got back to the camp in the afternoon. (I was such an idiot, Gyatso was right to keep up his holier-than-thou attitude with me.)

And then to tell me how horrible I am at meditating – (of _all_ things!) – and to tell me _I told you so_ aloud after I nearly provoked myself an aneurysm!

I sigh. (What a concise resume.) (Of my day and my life.)

I can’t help but wonder, why did the Avatar Spirit reincarnate in me? I am not good enough, I am not a hero. Would Kyoshi pick _me_ to be her re-embodiment if she had a say in it?

My hand goes to my face. Can her spirit see anything through my eyes?

Can she tell what I feel when I can’t do anything right and… when I have childish freakouts?

I sit up upon a knock outside, Sokka peeks his head through the entrance.

“Hey, Zuko! You want to visit that secret entrance Gyatso told us to not go to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Padmasana: Original sanskrit for lotus position.  
> [2] Asana: Original sanskrit for body positions in yoga


	19. Chapter 十七: Trust no one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, you don't mind if I rant for a while, right? 
> 
> Thanks! :-)
> 
> Today I said "THAT'S IT" with this chapter! It has been in my drafts for MONTHS, but because I also haven't slept in MONTHS I never could finish it!! I felt so useless!! And my sleeping problems are not completely solved yet, but I was SO tired of postponing this chapter. I was tired of postponing so many chapters!! I wanted to deliver this and the continuation to not leave it in that cliffhanger, but I had to push myself so hard to just stay awake while I was writing that I couldn't finish the others, but I said "No! This one is going up TODAY!!" so yeah, here it is! And I'm angry, and happy, and proud to be writing again and that I'm finally getting a handle of my insomnia, and I will make this chapter my celebration!!

**Sokka**

“What?”

“I said – ”

“I _heard_ what you said, but what the heck made you come up with _that_?”

“That’s what _I_ said!” Katara screeches before she pushes the tent’s opening curtain to the side, too.

It’s not that I couldn’t tell from before, but she’s _fuming_.

“This _maniac_ ,” her other hand waves my way, “woke me up for dragging me into his crazy spy mission that doesn’t make any sense!”

“Geez, had I known I would get two grouches for the price of one… I would have woken up Zuko alone.” I smirk at her.

“Oh, you mean I could stay in my warm, toasty sleeping mat while you lost some toes outside?” she counters. “And I’m supposed to feel bad, why?”

“Hey!” We turn to Zuko, who’s _still_ sitting on his own sleeping mat, but who _also_ looks like he’s reaching the limit of his very, very short patience. “None of you are answering my question.”

“Well, Gyatso said the whole place was part of a labyrinth to trick the intruders, right?” I remind them. (Because, _duh_.) “We could learn something about traps and all we need to know for catching… y’know… some old dude with poor shaving skills…”

“Gyatso also said it was _dangerous_.”

“Oh, sure, because you cared _soooooo_ much about what Gyatso had to say today.”

His eyes narrow, but I’m not scared.

Not too much.

Not as long as Katara and the weird thing they have for each other is here:

“Zuko is right, Sokka. Straight up ignoring Gyatso and going to places he _told_ us not to go is not the best way to ensure we _keep_ our airbending master.”

“Well, Gyatso already refused to give up on him after all his whinnying today – ”

“ _It wasn’t whinnying!_ ”

“ – so I guess we can count on his forgiveness.”

Oh, great, now she has her I-can’t-believe-you face, she’ll start yelling in no time: “You’re seriously willing to abuse some old man’s hospitality like _that_?”

“If it is in the name of knowledge… then yeah.”

Both, my not-appreciative-of-strategic-plans sister and her blow-things-up-now-ask-questions-later boyfriend, stare at me like I was crazy.

“Fine,” I shrug. “Don’t come with me. Don’t learn tactical moves for the next time we almost get killed. Don’t take the chance to revisit the Air Temple and those _hundreds_ of statues of the past Avatar’s…”

Zuko’s eyes go big for a second, but Katara gets in the way to scold me.

“Sokka!”

“Don’t support a devoted brother who has dedicated his _life_ to the safety of his little sister!” 

Now they are Katara’s eyes the ones that narrow.

“It’s not like my feelings matter,” I continue. “I’ll go alone. Off I go into a cruel world. Into a hostile environment. Without backup… And I’ll die alone. _So_ alone.”

“Are you done yet?”

“In the cold,” I continue. “So young. Without saying goodbye. And without ever being in love!”

_Pause for dramatic effect._

Not that the heartless jerks appreciate _that_ , either:

“Okay.”

“Take care.”

“You two are the worst,” I say with feeling. “Cool then, if you’re too _scared_ to come.”

I turn to Katara. “Oh, and when Dad asks, tell him that you killed me.”

“I am not scared of anything,” Zuko says, ready to pick up a fight.

But I’m _still_ not scared.

And of course Katara isn’t since she takes the boaster by the arm. “Zuko, he is tricking you.”

“Well, that’d embarrassing for him, wouldn’t it?” I muse. “Since I’m a nut-brained peasant and all…”

Both of them frown at me, but Zuko ends up sighing: “Okay. Katara already told me, I am an idiot. But the point stands, I am not scared of anything.”

“Sure, it’s only that you let Gyatso boss you around.”

“Nobody is the boss of me.”

“Then prove it.”

“Why are all men so stupid?” Katara murmurs (not that much quietly, by the way). “Have either of you thought that we’re talking about entering a _labyrinth_ , and as far as we know the only two exits are the entrance at the forest and the Southern Air Temple, and one of those is _miles_ away from here?”

“Well, the walk for getting there would be a good exercise,” I say.

“Mm-hmmmm,” she hums. “And for getting back?”

***

We peek at the bison’s stables from the bushes.

“Druk,” Zuko whisper-calls. “Druk.”

I wonder how much of a hearing range dragons have because Druk raises his head at the _very_ faint call. (Are dragons trained to be that much attentive of their owner’s voice?) (Or maybe it’s just that Druk went to the Dragon Obedience School.)

Once he spots us, Zuko gestures to the trees. “Go to the forest.”

And we do the exact same thing once we see Druk jumping the fence! (Bless be the Dragon Obedience School!)

Zuko and Druk have an emotive reencounter when we get to the forest. Druk nuzzles and licks him, Zuko hugs him, blah, blah, blah. (I must admit I didn’t have _them_ as the emotive type.)

“I missed you, buddy!”

“You saw him this morning,” I remind him… which earns me a growl from Druk.

“Don’t listen to him, Druk,” Zuko calms him. “He doesn’t know what it is like to have a dragon friend.”

“Talking about friendship,” I prompt, “We sorta need a favor from our friend Druk.”

And I proceed to explain my very detailed plan.

“Listen, lil’ buddy. We are going on a… recognition mission, but we are going to need a ride for getting back to the village before morning, and since the public transport is slow around these parts… When the _moon_ – ” I point to it at the northeast side of the sky “ – gets _there_ – ” I point to an empty spot into the northwest, and then I point to Druk “ – _you_ are going to get us at the Southern Air Temple’s entrance. Sounds good, right?”

Katara coughs. “It doesn’t.” Coughs again.

“You have to take care of that cough, baby sister. It sounds _awful_ ,” I tell her. “Alright, Druk. Do you copy?”

He only stares.

Unappreciative sister, unappreciative Avatar, and unappreciative dragon. _Ah, it’s not easy to be a misunderstood genius._

Zuko pets Druk some more. “Please, pal, I am going to be very tired after climbing a mountain beneath the surface. Do it for me, would you?”

Katara joins petting party. “And for _me_?”

Oh, sure, let's all hail the pretentious reptile instead of the guy that's in fact interested in the war!

But apparently the cult to Druk worked because he grunts and nods his head — (for real) — so I'm not complaining too much.

“He says okay,” Zuko clarifies.

“Perfect,” I deadpan. “Now let’s go, we’re losing the night’s coverage!”

***

I move stealthily through the trees, taking advantage of the darkness, attentive of the perimeter and ensuring nobody…

“Sokka, stop playing spy and stay close!” Katara says through her clenched teeth.

I know that is not for the cold, it’s the weird silence that floats around this spirit-y forest or whatever. I’m not that much of a believer, to be honest, but the silence really is much heavier in this part than what it is in the rest of the mountain. Like it was making a statement of itself and any disturbance was a violation against nature’s rules or something like that.

“We have to stay together,” Katara embraces herself, trembling, “I had forgotten how creepy this place is.”

“I keep feeling there is something walking around us,” Zuko whispers.

Katara’s eyes go big. “You think someone’s following us?”

“No, not someone. Some _thing_. Something that doesn’t disturb the forest. Like an animal.”

“See that?” I say. “That makes sense. Like, it’s terrifying, but… you know… in a rational level.”

“Shouldn’t we have brought Aang with us?” Katara asks, lowering the volume of her voice down to a hiss. “He knows the forest better.”

“He also knows Gyatso better,” I remind her. “And I don’t think he would doubt to give us away to someone whom he owes more loyalty.”

The tree branches thunder against each other, startling us. My hands desperately grasp the tree I’m using as a hiding spot, Katara holds on to Zuko’s arm.

“Relax, it is just the wind,” he tells us.

But the three of us keep scanning the treetops for a few minutes. (Just... to be sure.)

And _not_ like Katara and Zuko care much about _safety_ and _silence_ when they notice they’re arm in arm. (Ugh!) After that, it’s just pulling away, blushy faces, and a messy mix of apologies and it’s-alright’s. (Meanwhile, excuse me while I go vomit.)

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – ”

“No, no, it was nothing. I – ”

“It’s just that… this place gets on people’s nerves and – ”

“Yes, sure. No… Nothing to worry about.”

Fun fact: They. Are. Not. Smooth.

Ha, I guess that’s not something inherited between siblings.

Let them have their moment of awkward silence _aaaaaaaaaaand_ …

“Uh, guys?” I say. “Entrance, temple, anyone?”

“Right, right. Going.”

*******

The ruins are still like I remember them from this morning: several broken, irregular lines tangled with each other. The surface already looks like a labyrinth. Katara, Zuko, and I look for a possible entrance beneath the rubble.

Being here makes me think of the battles that took place the first days of the war. I imagine myself passing through these mountains then, fighting alongside other warriors. My dad would be so proud. 

Though, it's strange – like everything else around here – that the structure doesn’t seem like it _ever_ succumbed to the cold and the years. The concrete blocks are not worn down, and the cracks in them are way too profound to not be caused by blunt force. Although their texture is more porous and rougher than standard.

_Erosion without weathering._

The Air Nomads must have used their bending to destroy and hide this place to avoid being found by the Fire Nation soldiers.

“There’s a door in here,” Katara calls.

When Zuko and I find her, she’s banging it – a stone door – without much results.

“But it is stuck,” she concludes.

“Let me try,” one of Zuko’s fire daggers lights up from his fist alone.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a tough guy, but seeing _that_ and a _firebender_ in general standing in the middle of the ruins of a place destroyed _because_ of firebenders… doesn’t sit right with me.

It makes me think. How well do we know Zuko so far? For all that my sister and I know, and if he was truly inside that iceberg for a hundred years, he could very well have been part of this assassination against the Air Nomads before running away.

I know it didn’t look like it back when Katara and I first told him about it, but this is war. You can’t trust anyone.

Plus, _prince_ of the Fire Nation? The _son_ of the guy who started _all_ of this? Not bothering in taking off a Fire Nation _royal emblem_?

The circumstantial evidence is not on his side. 

“You two may want to take a step back,” he warns Katara and me, “Dust and embers are going to fly everywhere.”

“Be careful then,” Katara says.

Okay, now I’m worried. Just no for what you may think.

“So…” I start once we walk away and let Zuko cut-burn through the stone. (He was right, the dust and sparks are flying free.) “What’s going on between you and Zuko?”

My worry grows with each shade of red her cheeks color.

“What? What are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between me and Zuko! What could possibly be going on between us?”

“I’m just sayin’. Since you two are becoming so close…”

“Pffft! That’s normal, we are friends.”

“Riiiiiiiiiiiight,” I stretch. “Just promise me _you’ll_ be the careful one, okay? People who never reveal anything about their past, and who at the end of the day you barely know are not really ones to commit.”

Katara’s eyes have always been darker than mine, and they seem even darker with the look she gives me.

A loud thump cuts short our stare contest. “It is open,” Zuko announces.

When Katara and I come close again, we see him putting the _entire_ door away. He _really_ cut it off from the rest of the structure.

“Way to vandalize ancient ruins, Zuko,” I say dryly.

“Hey, you are the one that dragged me here in the first place.”

Katara is fed up: “Let’s just go inside and get over with this.”

We do.

*******

Damn, this place is dark. And… truth be told… I expected it to be a bit more impressive. So far it’s only a dark corridor with plain walls, with a bit of moss and vines, the usual…

“ _Whoa!_ ”

… until you hit a cliff right at the end of it!

We almost drop!

“For Agni’s sake!” Zuko exclaims. “Why would they build this place with a cliff behind the door?”

“And how deep did they dig it,” Katara stretches her neck to get a better view. “It’s like… it has no end.”

“It’s not a cliff, it’s a pit. The other side is right there,” I point to it… around forty-nine feet away, to be exact. “It seems like the road continues there.”

“Huh,” Katara shrugs. “Figures.”

“It does?”

“Well, this place was built by _airbenders_ only for _airbenders_ to pass it,” she reminds us. “I don’t think they would put it easy for someone who can’t float.”

“Good point,” Zuko agrees.

“Oh, such a shame, but we have to go back.”

“No,” I say. “C’mon! This our first and probably _only_ chance to get ahead of the Fire Nation! They don’t know we’re in here, and we better have an escape route before they find out.”

“I hate to break it to you, big brother, but in case you haven’t noticed, this escape route doesn’t seem very viable.”

But there _has_ to be a way to make it viable! There has to be _something_ in here, there has to be…

There are some vines hanging from the ceiling.

“Give me a sec.” I take out my boomerang.

When I throw it, it cuts and untangles some of the lianas, enough for one of the ends to fall right on my palm before I catch my boomerang with my other hand.

“Since Air Nomads are all about _balancing_ ,” I grin. (Told ya! Smooth.)

“Seriously?”

“Any of you has a better idea?”

No, they don’t.

“C’mon, baby sister. I’ll take you to the other side.”

It takes her a bit (a lot) of hesitation, but Katara ends up grabbing on to me while I grab the liana and…

One jump, a few moments in the air, some screams – (from Katara, not mine) – and we are standing at the other edge.

“Sokka, that was amazing!”

“I _know_.”

“But will that vine be able to carry Zuko and you together?”

“It’ll be fine. His head might be big, but it’s only because it’s full of air.”

“I _heard_ that!” (Hopefully some of that air went out with that scream.)

(And I also hope attitude problems are not as heavy as they seem.)

Okay, going back for the grump.

“Don’t crush me,” I glare at him.

He scoffs. “I can’t wait to forget this ever happened.”

_Me, too, man. Just one jump and it’s over._

It’s over when the vine breaks and we fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and about the "cliffhanger" thing that I said above... Haha! No pun intended ':-D


	20. Chapter 十九: Bitter are the wars between brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to thank all of you guys for putting up with me through this fic. I'm still figuring out many things about first person POV, and I'm happy that I can share my efforts and my accomplishments with you :-)

**Zuko**

“ _Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!_ ”

I don’t know how long Sokka and I scream. It is endless. Like the pit. My ears shut down due to the pressure growing on them. ( _What is it that they say about having visions of your life when you are about to die?_ ) (I _feel_ like I _am_ about to die, but… I don’t see anything.)

Something cool and strangely incorporeal comes around my hand before freezing there and halting my fall. My skin stings, burning with coldness. I manage to catch Sokka with my other hand – the one from my wounded arm – the open flesh stretches and the injury opens agonizingly slowly.

“Boys, are you okay?”

I follow Katara’s voice up through the thin string of solid ice that is holding my hand. I can’t see her at the top, we are too far down.

I have had it with Sokka!

“ _Are you trying to kill me?_ ” I yell.

His answer is just as angry: “Is _that_ an option?”

“I take that as a ‘yes’,” Katara says from above.

The ice chain shudders.

“Katara, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” her voice sounds pained. The ice slips a bit downer. “Totally.”

“What did you use to make the ice?”

“The water from my waterskin.”

“That thing doesn’t carry that much water,” Sokka reminisces in a lower voice only for me to hear. “She must be hanging at the edge for reaching this far.”

The chain slides further.

“Katara, you have to let it go! You are going to fall, too!” I tell her.

“And leave you two to fall to the depths of only who knows where? I don’t think so!”

Looking down at whatever distance is left for us to fall, I can’t see a thing! Everything is a squared black abyss with unnervingly straight walls, and which’s darkness appears even greater now that we are inserted in it. The air is hot and slightly damp. Maybe there is water at the bottom or something.

Sokka and I yelp when we glide again.

“Sorry!” Katara sounds more uncomfortable and in pain the more she speaks. “It’s just that… you two are… very heavy, and my arms… are stretching. And it takes… a lot of work… to focus on… keeping the ice… solid.”

“Katara, you have to let it go!”

“ _No!_ ”

“The ice is too thin anyway,” Sokka adds, “It will break if you try to pull us up!”

“ _Why_ did we have to come here in the first place?” She tries to pull up but it only works to get us even downer. “Zuko, how’s your arm injury?”

 _Bad._ I can feel it broadening, and then the wetness of the blood. If it keeps up, I might lose the strength to continue grabbing Sokka’s arm.

_Wait._

“Katara, I have a plan!” I exclaim. “But you have to let go of the ice at my sign!”

“What – ”

“I swear I have a plan,” I reassure her, “but you have to melt the ice. I will get both of us up, I… I promise.”

She doesn’t answer straight away. I can see my own breathing puff in fist-sized clouds, the ice continues to nick my hand.

The silence is thin, the tension slices it.

“You promise?” Katara asks. Her voice is thin, too.

“I promise,” I say.

She hesitates for a few more seconds.

“Okay.”

“Remember, at my sign,” I repeat.

“What exactly is this plan you’re talking about?” Sokka questions. His brows are furrowed in unsureness.

(I am not about to tell him he is right to feel unsure.) “Just know that I _am_ sorry for this.”

“What are you – ”

I cut off his phrase when I use all the strength I can assemble on my left arm to throw him into the air.

“ _Ah!_ ”

“Katara, now!” I scream.

She lets go, the ice melts, I impulse myself to an upper spot on the wall using fire jets from my feet, take out my pearl dagger from my belt, stab it into the concrete to support me there, and I catch Sokka again before he can fall down once more. (Everything is so quick it feels it happened simultaneously.)

Sokka and I pant for air for a few moments. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to shout at me when he recovers his breath (and from the shock).

“Are you fucking _insane_?”

“What’s going on down there?” Katara wonders.

“Your _boyfriend_ almost kills me!” her brother replies.

 _What –_ “Boyfriend?” I choke.

“Sokka!” Katara reprimands. “I told you he isn’t my boyfriend!”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” I say at the same time.

“Seriously?” he looks up inexpressively. “We are going talk about that _now_?”

“No, because there isn’t anything to talk about,” I reply. “Now, catch your breath, I’m going to throw you again.”

“No!” he complains. “Zuko, wait – ”

I don’t give him time to finish. I repeat the same motions: throw him – I wish I could do so farther away – take out the dagger, use my firebending to push myself up, stick the dagger into another corner of the wall, upper than where we were; and catch Sokka before he goes down. That is how I make us climb out of the damn crater. I can feel the strength leaving my left arm with each time that I toss Sokka and each drop of blood that comes out of the reopened wound. Katara is right, _why_ did we have to come here?

Sokka screams one last time before gripping tight to the edge of the precipice once I get us there. (Finally.) I grab it, too, after I shoot myself to it, but it is difficult, my left arm feels completely drained, of no use.

“Sokka!” Katara comes to her brother’s aid and helps him get up.

Then she takes one of my arms to pull me up as well until I lay on the steady floor.

The three of us attempt to catch some share of new air – fresh air that isn’t charged with panicky sweat and fear and dust and fatigue. The only thing audible is the sound of our messy, unsynchronized gasps.

“Nobody…” Sokka manages to speak “… will ever find out about this... Okay?”

Katara and I nod.

“Can we get out of here _now_?” she presses.

“Don’t you even…” I say, shifting between breaths “… think that I will… jump to another liana.”

“That’s fair,” Sokka agrees. (My common sense is coming back after all that adrenaline, I remember _he_ is the one that put us through _that_!) “Well, I suppose we already passed the most difficult part. Everything should be easier from here.”

“You _think_ , you wannabe strategist!” I roar as strong as I can. I stand up. “It is _your_ fault that we fell into this ‘ _difficult part_ ’, and you – _Ah!_ ”

My left shoulder throbs, my right hand clutches it.

“What’s wrong?” Katara doesn’t wait for an answer before approaching to examine me.

When she removes my hand, we both stare at the dark red stain that shows through my coat; without wasting time, she helps me take off the sleeve to study the bandage beneath it. The mark of blood is bigger there.

“It’s not as bad as I expected,” she admits, unwrapping the formerly white fabric, “The binding was tight enough to keep the flesh from opening too much. But I think you will need stitching.”

“Great,” I deadpan.

“Listen, guys,” Sokka hesitates, “I know that you probably think all of this is my fault – ”

“ _Probably_?” Katara parrots in a nearly hysteric voice, “And just _thinking_ it? _You_ are the one that brought us here and _you_ are the one who insisted on using the liana! There’s nothing to _think_ , Sokka! _You_ are the selfish idiot who caused all of this! And the very minimum you can do is taking responsibility for your actions! That, and confronting the consequences! So I don’t want to hear another word from you for the rest of the night _and_ the week! Do I make myself _clear_?”

_Agni, when did she grow three feet taller?_

On the other hand, now I know how she managed to assume such leadership back at the Southern Water Tribe.

Sokka is nodding so eagerly and powerfully that it seems his head would fall if he stopped. Katara counts a fair amount of nods before dropping her fierce stance.

She turns to me. “Zuko, we need to find something to make a new bandage, if you keep carrying the other one, the cloth could rot and the injury could get infected.”

“We could cut a piece from my coat,” I offer. And pick my dagger from the floor.

“I’ll do it,” Katara takes it from my hand.

I take off my coat so she can cut whatever she needs. “You need to sharpen this,” she observes, eyeing the uneven blade covered in dirt.

“Yes,” I agree. “I _know_ ,” I add, glaring at Sokka.

Katara slices one of my sleeve’s end and then ties it around my upper arm. “You sure you can go on with a chopped coat?”

“I will be fine,” I assure her, shrugging into the jacket, “I will keep my body heat high until we get back to the village.”

“Okay. That settled…” she spins around and resumes walking forward.

*******

For a good length, this new corridor is not different from the one we left behind on the other side of the pit. The walls are the same dark gray color, yet it could also be the lack of light. I cast a flame floating above my palm to illuminate the road as we keep advancing. Same creepily straight walls, same moss, and minimal patches of vegetation growing despite the adversity.

There is a strange perception about this tunnel, though. The more we advance, it seems like we are _descending_ to somewhere.

“I’m starting to get worried, guys,” Katara mutters. “What if all the labyrinth is like this tunnel and we are getting into something we might not be able to escape?”

“So far we have only walked in a straight line,” I reminisce, “That we can be sure of and we can return if we find any turns.”

Sokka breaks his vow of silence. “Maybe if we get trapped in here until tomorrow, Gyatso will come to get us and – ”

“I said not to talk!” Katara reminds him firmly.

He complies.

“Guys, I think I see light ahead,” I tell them.

“But we haven’t walked enough to get the Southern Air Temple yet.”

Because we _didn’t_ get to the temple – not the one on the surface. This is… an underground… auditorium. The tunnel was a doorway to a massive cupola, and its ceiling is high, but it is… _earth_. A thick layer of earth through which the roots of the trees break and let in rays of moonlight. That is the only thing that gives away that we are beneath the ground, the rest of the place is built like a classic amphitheater, the walls are perfectly constructed and carved. Solid, steady, and tidy.

“My, _now_ we’re talking!” Sokka exclaims with admiration.

We count the different levels that climb to the top of the dome. Circled platforms one above the other that make up for different floors and their walls are filled with hundreds of doorframes and tunnels like the one we used to get here. The place where we are standing is another platform, a short row of stairs extends towards a group of stone tables.

“What is this place?” Katara wonders in a whisper.

“It doesn’t look like it was part of the Air Temple,” I observe, stepping into it, “Look at the insignia on the floor.”

It is not an Air Nomad symbol, it is a lotus flower carved at the center of the stage where we are standing.

“It’s pretty,” she muses, “I suppose, but…”

“But this _is_ a labyrinth,” Sokka finishes for her. (I guess she is too stunned by this discovery to remind him to stay silent.)

His eyes continue wandering through the doorways as he steps inside. “Any of these could lead to the Air Temple.”

“And some of them could lead to somewhere less pleasant,” I add.

We stay in silence for a while.

“What do you guys think this place was?” Sokka inquires, stepping down the stairs. His steps resound around us. “Maybe some kind of meeting room?”

“Why would Air Nomads, of all nations, have an underground meeting room?”

He shrugs, reaching the end of the stairs. “Why would anyone have an underground labyrinth? Also, is it my idea or this place is way too clean for being hundred-year-old abandoned ruins?”

He is right, there isn’t even moss. The tables are pristine.

“Perhaps certain things about the war weren’t as they told us,” Katara concedes, finally entering the auditorium.

 _It figures_ , I think. And mayhap there were other things about the war that aren’t completely true, or that are misconceptions. Maybe the Fire Nation isn’t completely evil, maybe there is something in my country that I am in time to save. Maybe I didn’t abandon everyone, maybe…

“So, how do we climb to the tunnels?”

Katara’s voice startles me.

“There aren’t any stairs to go up. Whatever this place is, it is _still_ in Air Nomad territory.”

Sokka (attempts) to suggest: “We could – ”

“There is no way we are doing any other of your ideas, Sokka!” Katara snarls.

“What?” he snaps. “You’re still going on with that?”

“What do you mean ‘still going on with that’? Your little ‘free fall’ happened less than an hour ago!”

“Yeah, but as you can see, I was right to bring us here!”

“Right about what? This is _just_ an empty room, you know?”

“It is an empty room from the first days of the war!” he emphasizes. “If I keep looking, maybe I can find some armament. Or blueprints!” He rubs his hands enthusiastically. “Oh, man, Dad will be so proud when I show them to him – ”

“Is that what this is about? You just want to find something to impress Dad?”

Sokka pauses. It is almost imperceptible. “Pfft! Of course not, Katara. What are you even talking about?”

I am tempted to ask if they could not talk about this in front of me.

“This is only another one of your war games?” Katara insists.

“They are not _games_ , Katara!” Sokka yells.

“No, they aren’t. I _know_ that. That’s why I don’t bring my friends – or my family – to unknown, mysterious places that as far as I know could be ancient tombs!”

Sokka pauses again at the mention of _family_. This time is more noticeable, he looks… shocked. Guilty.

Oh, give me a break! I don’t need to empathize with him _now_!

He laughs nervously. “Ancient tombs? Now you’re just inventing things.”

“Like the tale you invented where you took out some treasure from here you immediately became a war hero?” Katara retorts.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Neither do _you_ because if you did you wouldn’t jump from cliffs just to prove that you’re ‘The Man’!” she enacts quotation marks with her fingers.

“You know what? I am _done_ with you!” Sokka says. “Dad clearly didn’t know how much of an insufferable brat you were! Remember what you said to me before we found The Grump at the South Pole?” he hooks a thumb towards me.

“Hey!” I call out. (Forget it. No more empathy going on here.)

“This time, _you_ – ” he points to Katara “ – are on your own!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

The two of them storm off in opposite directions. (Katara goes towards the wall across the room, and Sokka goes deeper into the group of tables.)

“Um… guy?” I say, belatedly. _We… We are still trapped here._


	21. Chapter 二十: Heart and soul

**Katara**

_Stupid brother! Stupid brother! Stupid brother!_

I’m pretty sure I’m muttering that out loud, but I can’t bring myself to care – (not that I’m trying to even do that) – I’m busy thinking how good it could have worked for me to be an only child, or… just anyone else’s sister other than Sokka!

It would have saved me lots of problems and near-heart attacks! And it sure as hell wouldn’t have _me_ been the one doing all the work just to be tossed aside for being a girl! I am done with him, too; I’ll get out of this labyrinth before he does and then he’ll see –

“Are you going to keep jumping like that until you reach the upper floor?” Zuko wonders from my side, watching me bounce trying to reach the upper platforms.

(I have been doing this for a while now.)

“Yes,” I answer, sincerely.

Sokka scoffs.

“Hey, Zuko, do you hear something?” I ask.

He glances over his shoulder. “Not really.”

I smirk at him with complicity.

“I think you are hurting his feelings,” he murmurs quietly, just enough for me to hear.

Yeah, probably, but…

“He should have thought better before almost hurting himself,” I respond not caring about how quiet or loudly I do so.

“Is that why you are so mad at him?” He pauses, considering his own question. He looks mildly confused. “It is strange for someone to get mad at others because they care about them.”

“Not that strange,” I explain, hopping once more. “It’s complicated. Caring about someone involves a lot of emotions, especially when that person does something stupid.”

His confusion is replaced by something else, but very similar nevertheless like he was trying to make sense of something he had seen before. The conversation that we had in his tent after the avalanche, maybe? But there’s also an emptiness to his expression as if he was trying to detach himself from whatever he is reminiscing.

It makes me think about what Sokka said earlier. _‘People who never reveal anything about their past, and who at the end of the day you barely know.’_

Geesh, I really don’t want to follow one of his advices now.

“Do you have a better idea on how to get up?” I ask.

“I think I do,” his answer comes quickly, “but… I don’t know if you will like it much.”

“C’mon, how bad can it be? I already agreed to swing on a liana.”

He considers this for a second. “Okay. Just… um… follow me.”

Complying, we step some considerable steps away from the spot where we were standing, much separated from the edge of the platforms.

“How is it that stepping back is going to take us to the next floor?”

“You will see in a minute,” he explains, “And do you… um… do you mind if I carry you?”

“What?”

“It is only for taking the two of us up, I swear,” he answers nervously, like he thinks I will slap him for the mere question.

One of my brows arches. (Fine, one on hand, I _knew_ beforehand what I was getting into with the liana, but…)

“Will you be able to carry me with the wound on your shoulder reopened?” I inquiry.

“It doesn’t need that much mobility from my arm. Besides you don’t weigh much – I mean, I remember from when we got out of that Fire Nation ship at the South Pole,” he cuts himself off, “No… Not that I think about that much.”

Sokka scoffs yet again, louder this time.

“Uh… Thanks, Zuko,” (I guess so?) “And… sure, why not?”

His hand rubs the back of his neck. “Great, just… put your arms around my neck.”

I do.

I have to slightly push myself on the tips of my toes to fully surround his neck. One of his arms settles on my back and the other lifts my legs.

“Whoa,” I say. An involuntary giggle escapes my mouth. “So strong.” I don’t think I got to appreciate that enough back at home.

Sokka gags obnoxiously noisy. “Can’t you two leave that for when you’re _alone_?”

Another good thing about being an only child: no one interrupts your moments with your… uh…

You know what? Forget that.

“So, what now?” I ask.

“Hold on tight,” Zuko replies, recalling the words he told me at the South Pole.

Though, I barely have time to remember properly before he starts freaking running through the walls with me in his arms!

He does some of his crazy spins in the air for making us land right at the edge of the higher floor. I know this has already been a scream-filled night, but I can’t hold back a mini-shriek. “ _Ah!_ ”

Thank Spirits it ends soon!

“A warning would have been welcome!”

“I told you I didn’t know if you would like the idea. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I say, even though I’m still clinging to his neck like my life depended on it. (For a moment, it _did_.)

“You are… strangling me.”

“Oh, sorry,” I let go of him and get to my feet. A bit dizzily.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Sokka protests from below. “Not all of us have a weightlifting acrobat on our side!”

“I can’t carry you here from there,” Zuko counters, “If what happened at the cliff served for something, it proved you are not exactly light.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a problem in the numbers, Sokka,” I point out. (Smugly.) (Just a _tiny little bit_.) “You should have thought better before coming in a group of three.”

“I’m telling Dad about this!” he threatens.

“Fine for me, as long as you tell him how we got here.”

Sokka never gets angry as much as I do, he’s too laid-back for that. There was one of his jokes that I hated when he said that after so many years of scowling at him I had grown a scary look. More than hating it, I never understood it. His eyes are clearer than mine, they are better to reflect fury. Like now that they are glaring at me.

“Whatev, I don’t care,” he dismisses turning his back to me, “I’ll find a way out myself. I don’t need you.”

My stomach ties into a knot. “We could come back for you after…”

“No,” he refuses gravely, “We’re each on our own now, ‘member?”

“C’mon, big brother, don’t be like this.”

He covers his ears. “Lalalalalalalala! I can’t hear you, you must be in a tunnel far away from my ears!”

Oh, real grown-up. Now _I’m_ the one to glare. “Fine,” I bite out, “Let’s go, Zuko.”

I mentally thank him for remaining politely quiet during this whole exchange. We advance without a true destination circling through the stage.

“Jerk,” I say thinking about Sokka.

“Brat,” he answers back.

***

“These tunnels are strange,” Zuko observes, “None of them have an echo, so none of them are dead-ends, but…”

I miss that last part, I’m barely listening anyway.

Sokka is roving through the architecture, and looking between the columns and stone tables for only he knows what. I would help him, if I only knew what’s here that is so important he would put his life in danger just to please our dad. For Spirit’s sake, we’re not children anymore, we don’t need to constantly be looking for his approval!

Who even is he for his opinion on us to matter? He can’t have one, he hasn’t seen us grow; he sure thinks we are still two little kids that will stay awake every night waiting for his return. We are not. _I_ am not. I have grown, I can take care of myself and my brother. And Gran-Gran. And everyone our father left behind. I’ve been doing that since _before_ he left, since Mom died, since forever. He knew that I could do that, but he didn’t think what it would be like to do it alone. He took me for granted. _Everyone_ takes me for granted. 

“Katara?”

I yelp to Zuko’s voice. “Oh. Sorry, I was…”

He follows my gaze to Sokka; when his eyes return, they are sympathetic. “You could try to talk to him.”

“You saw how he was, he won’t listen to me.”

“He…” I can see him trying to come up with a consoling enough of an answer, but I doubt that there is one that’s also sincere. “He sure didn’t mean it?”

I purse my lips, unconvinced.

“You and your younger brother used to fight like this?” I wonder.

The changes on his stance and his expression are subtle, but they are there: he stiffens, and his lips press together instinctively. His eyes are blank but feeling when he looks down. I understand that questions about his family from a hundred years ago can trigger unhappy feelings, but I expected those to be grief, not this… guilt that is painting Zuko’s face unnervingly white.

It makes his lips look rosier.

“Our fights used to be more… intense,” he says after a while.

I shouldn’t press on it. I _really_ shouldn’t press on it. But…

“How so?”

He evades the question. “That doesn’t matter anymore. Here, let’s take this one.”

And he immediately proceeds to enter a random passageway in the wall. The need to roll my eyes mixes with the awful uneasiness I’ve been feeling since a while ago. _Typical Zuko_ , I think. And it’s starting to become really tiring.

I follow him inside.

“You don’t really like to talk about yourself much, do you?” I say as we walk.

The cave is dark, even more than the path we took to get to that auditorium. Zuko lights another flame floating above his hand. “I don’t see the point in talking about myself.”

“That’s… humbling. But talking helps people to know you better, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. “Even if I did, you can never truly know someone.”

(Seriously?) “You are quite a pessimist for being the Avatar.”

“Being the Avatar has nothing to do with being an optimist.”

_Yes, I’m starting to realize that, too._

It isn’t even funny; when I used to imagine the Avatar, I used to picture this faceless light of hope that ignited and vanished the darkness of the war around the world. And now I am seeing Zuko. The fire creates a show of yellowy lights and blurry shadows over his face, and he is only… human.

And sad, and insecure, and imperfect like a normal teenager.

Maybe that’s why I am so eager to get close to him. And it’s terrifying because humans are unpredictable, and they can lie, and they can leave. And Zuko is not giving me much basis to believe he won’t do either.

“I think there is light ahead,” he points forward into the tunnel.

We follow the whitish tray of moonlight until we reach yet a new hall, though not as big as the principal one we left behind. We are received by a high barrier blocking our way. It takes me a moment – and a good stretch of my neck – to realize it’s not a barrier, it is a peak built from the floor, almost tall enough to reach the ceiling with a sharp end on top. The light entering through the cracks on the walls make it appear like a fingernail. A claw. All the other peaks look alike, the room is filled with them.

“Katara, look away.”

There’s an alarm in Zuko’s voice that makes me want to do exactly that, but I turn to him as a reflex, and I find what provoked such concern in him. A horrified gasp escapes my throat.

At the other side of the room, there are skeletons. Skeletons wearing Fire Nation colors and armors. The bones are fractured and spilled around some of the peaks, along with dark, dry stains.

Zuko shields me from the sight with his body before I can distinguish much, and my fist clenches on his jacket by instinct – in search of the smallest reassurance. Looking at the top of the peaks, I can see them as the main points from where… whatever that caused the stains… came from. And not too high above them there is a door shaped like the one we used to get here.

“This is one of the traps Gyatso told us about,” Zuko muses quietly. Inanely. If his voice was colored, it would be the same as the ghostly moonshine. “The Air Nomads must have used it to escape the Fire Nation a hundred years ago. They could soar, so they could pass without getting hurt… but the Fire Nation soldiers couldn’t.”

Zuko’s silhouette is a deep black shadow in front of me, one that I am holding unafraid until I can feel my blood stop its course through my fingers. Without that blood, there is only a weakening sensation that could be mistaken by fear if it wasn’t because fear makes you restless and hypersensitive, and this makes me feel frozen and inhuman.

Zuko conserves his human warmth despite the winter wind and despite the chilliness of what is in front of us – what he is staring at, directly.

 _His_ colors. _His_ armors.

His people.

Dead.

“I thought the Air Nomads were pacifists,” I say, my voice is hollow.

His as well: “Pacifists have to survive, too.”

My hands let go and grip his arms, so tightly that for a moment I think I might leave bruises on his skin; my forehead presses against his back. How ironic, I never thought I would feel empathy over Fire Nation soldiers, I never imagined I would feel sorrow for anyone from the Fire Nation. But Zuko, he… he is only human.

And he is hurting.

_He smells like morning dew…_

The thunder of an avalanche and a shout resound through the tunnel awakening panic at the core of my heart. “ _Sokka!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!! And if you'd like to know ways to help me keep writing, please, please, **PLEASE** see the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com/


	22. Chapter 二十一: Separated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, I admit it, I got hyped over ZK Latine Week this year and I took a while to update, but now I am 110% focused on this story! Let's do this! :-D

**Sokka**

Who needs a sister anyway? I’m living proof that brothers are the best!

Besides, what does Katara even care if I want to impress our dad? It’s not like she knows how wanting to impress someone feels like. She’s everybody’s tiny miracle and I tag along. (We should have _that_ on a family album.)

I don’t need to tag along with her. Or with _anyone_. I’m supposed to be the strong one, that’s what Dad left me in charge of being. He _knows_ I am capable of being that person, I _know_ I can be that person. I’ll show him he didn’t make a mistake.

And I’ll show Katara she is making one by not taking me seriously!

Spoiled brat falls short for her, all she has to do is be born with special powers and everybody loves her. She is everyone’s cute little angel that talks about hope and fun and dreams! ( _Ugh!_ )

_I really hate to break it to you, baby sister, but that’s not how the world works. I should know, I am older than you, I’m the one that got all those lectures about all the things I had to protect you from._

And granted, I haven’t done an excellent job at that. (Not all of us can be multifunctional on top of being benders like Katara is.)

Damn it, I need to stop thinking about my dumbass of a sister and start focusing on the matters at hand! I still haven’t found anything war-related in this amphitheater, I haven’t found anything… ancient-looking.

It is giving me The Creeps™, but nothing in this place looks remotely old. The tables, the walls, _everything_ is clean, complete, secure, and honed like a recently built edifice would be. Or – to add to the Fear Factor – like an _inhabited_ building would be. 

… _Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay_ , _that’s weird_. It’s impossible for someone to survive living in these conditions.

It _is_ possible that someone has been living here unnoticed the way Air Nomads have been living unseen for the past hundred years. (Say, just going out to get food?)

I get my club out – and yes, I carry a _loooooooooot_ of weapons with me, just in case – and I hit it against one of the concrete columns in the hall over and over again while I think.

What are the chances of someone inhabiting this place?

I suppose the same ones that there are for the victims of genocide to survive unbeknownst to the rest of the world.

All of a sudden I realize there is… dirt… snowing… on top of my head.

I see; that’s how the ceiling stays put: the columns carry the soil, that’s why they are accommodated not too far away from each other, the vibrations my club produced made some of the dirt come down. All the roof is like a knitted sheet of earth.

… Isn’t it a little _odd_ that this place looks made by _earth_ benders and not _air_ benders?

An _underground_ lecture hall... beneath a _mountain_ … built with _concrete_ … and its very rooftop is the very _earth_.

Sure, you could guess the Air Nomads asked some Earth Kingdom fellas to construct this place when the four nations were in better terms, but why would Air Nomads want an underground _anything_?

Something is not clicking. Plus, it’s probable that whoever put this place up could the one keeping it from falling apart. Or at least someone with similar constructing abilities. And if this _was_ made by earthbenders… it could mean someone outside the Southern Air Nomad camp knows about the secret passage and possibly the village.

Too bad that I don’t have time to get many conclusions. The rest of the ceiling decides to go where the earth goes: down.

Uh-oh.

“ _Ah!_ ”

_Okay, fine, baby sis. You were right; I should have listened to you._

**Katara**

Sokka! Sokka!

Between the hard, cold and hot breaths; and the hammering of my heart, the only thing I can think and hear is _I won’t lose my brother_.

_I won’t lose the only family I have left._

**Sokka**

Why is everything trying to kill me tonight? The cliff, the roof, the air blast that comes out of the frikin’ nowhere and pushes me out of the way and to the upper floor–

_Wait a minute._

“Aang?”

For once he’s not all rainbows and sunshine: “Stand back!”

I do.

We use the third-floor stage as much of a shelter as we can, and we cover our heads with our arms (for extra safety) while a piece of the ceiling booms against the floor. (Damn the dust!)

Aang and I cough in unison: “Coff, coff! Coff, coff!”

“Sokka!”

That was Katara’s voice.

Before I fully turn, she is already hugging me like I was the last lifeboat in the ocean.

“I’m so sorry, big brother! I love you, and you are not a jerk, and you’re not a stupid brother, and I’ll pull you up from a cliff any time, and I’ll help you look for everything about the war that you want, and… did I mention that I love you?”

Uh…

_Awww!_

“Thanks, sis, the feeling is mutual,” I pat her on the back. “But seriously, after almost getting myself killed two times in a row, I’m starting to think this wasn’t my best idea so far.”

“How glad I am you two aren’t fighting anymore,” Zuko cuts in, “But I think right now we owe somebody else some explanations.”

I freeze. “Riiiiiiiiiiiight. Somebody like a four-foot-tall ray of sunshine that _surely_ will forgive us for being dumb teenagers.”

“I am _five_ -feet tall,” Aang says. “And I would feel more like a ray of sunshine if I hadn’t come to look for you in the middle of the night!”

**Aang**

“Are the three of you _crazy_?” I scream. “Seriously, guys, normally I don’t allow myself to feel negative emotions, but even _I_ am kind of angry right now!”

“We are so sorry, Aang,” Katara apologizes, “We weren’t thinking things through.”

“I know you weren’t! Why would you even come somewhere you were told _not_ to come?”

“It’s a long story,” Sokka sighs.

“And how did you do to cross the cliff to get here anyway?”

“That one is…” Zuko trails off “another long story.”

Now _I_ sigh. I’m so tired _and_ confused. I get that I am not the most obedient disciple or the most disciplined one and that even if I were I wouldn’t be in a position to judge others… but, for real, how _wild_ it is to get yourself inside a labyrinth built only for _airbenders_ to survive when you’re not an _airbender_? Is that a thing teenagers do? I am _so_ not looking forward to growing up to _that_. (Though, if I did grow up to that, I could still go into airbenders-only places because I _am_ an airbender, but… well… you get the idea.) (Would it be so bad if there were some other airbenders-only places outside of the villages?) (I could make some!) (If I was allowed to go outside of the village.)

“Aang, how was it that you found us?” 

Momo comes out from inside my shirt and curls around Zuko’s leg.

“Momo was the one who followed you, and then he came to look for me. He said you guys had entered a bad place,” I tell them.

“He ‘said’?” Sokka questions.

“That explains why I felt it was an animal following us in the forest,” Zuko says. Momo climbs through his side to stand on his shoulder and lick his head.

“At least now that Aang is here we have someone to help us get back to the village,” Katara suggests.

“Yes, but we certainly can’t return the way we got in.” Sokka is looking down at the entryway.

Well, it used to be the principal entryway to get to this hall, but now the mount of earth is blocking it.

“There is an opening to the surface now,” Katara points to it, “Aang could take us out using airbending so we can head back.”

I look at the hole in the roof. It was a big patch the one that fell, but… “I don’t know, it’s too dark for a person to be able to orientate, even I would have problems finding the right path from here. If we take too long to find shelter for the night, we could freeze.”

“So, finding our way to the Southern Air Temple remains as our only option,” Zuko states, taking Momo in his hands and away from his head. 

“Wait,” Sokka’s eyes grow, “I almost forgot about something.”

He turns to me. “Aang, what are the chances that someone has been entering and exiting this place without you or the other Air Nomads noticing?”

Katara is the first one to react: “What?”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko queries.

“There is _one_ and only _one_ thing the three of us agreed tonight, right? There was something odd about this place,” Sokka explains. “The detailed cleanness and all. I was thinking, the only way to get _this_ level of preservation is with constant, _manual_ maintenance. The walls, the tables, not one of them has a _single_ stain or a crack – or they _didn’t_ , until the roof went south – and there aren’t signs of water filtrations.” He extends his arms to point to the entire hall. “It’s not possible for a structure to remain like this without periodically reapplying coating. _At_ _least_.”

“And you are saying somebody has been coming only to do maintenance to the walls?”

“I’m saying this place has been kept and arranged by a third party’s intervention,” Sokka says. “Only that I don’t know _who_ that third party is.”

“Sokka, it’s also impossible for someone to come and go without the village noticing,” I counter, “Without _me_ noticing. I walk in and out these woods all the time, every day, and the entrance has always been abandoned.”

“Had you ever came in here, Aang?” Katara wonders.

“Of course not! It is forbidden!”

“Then you don’t know what this hall is either,” she mutters. I follow her eyes to the rest of the building.

Sokka is right about something, this isn’t typical Air Nomad construction. It’s too… _conventional_.

“We better get out of here,” Zuko concludes, cautiously. “If anything that we are saying is in fact true, then we have to keep whoever has been interfering with this building from finding us.”

“I sure hope they had a good insurance,” Sokka muses. “So… what now? We just go through the tunnels and hope for the best?”

Katara and Zuko tense. The two of them, at the same time, and they look at each other through the corner of their eyes.

“Uh… Sokka, can Zuko and I talk to you in private, please?” Katara takes him by the arm and drags him a bit away from me. “Aang, just… give us a minute.”

“And hold Momo while we talk, too,” Zuko hands Momo to me.

I watch the three of them talk (whisper) with their backs turned to me. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Sokka chokes all of a sudden: “ _What?_ ”

Zuko pushes his head down so they’ll be slightly hunched, but with how panicked they are now, their voices grow and I can hear bits and pieces:

“You can’t be serious!”

“It _is_ serious! We can’t let him see _that_!”

“Are you talking about me?” I ask.

They don’t answer.

“Then we leave him waiting here?”

“We aren’t leaving anybody behind.”

“I’ll walk with him and make sure he doesn’t see anything he shouldn’t,” Katara says. “Okay?”

The three of them return to look at me.

“Okay, Aang, we have decided to split into groups for safety,” Sokka explains.

“I’ll be walking with you until we find an exit,” Katara announces.

I beam, my heart skips a beat, “Amazing!”

I jump to stand right next to her. This is the best night of my life!

**Zuko**

I watch Aang practically materialize himself next to Katara, standing excessively close to her.

I frown.

Sokka – idiotic as he is – chuckles. “Oh, the night is improving already.”

“Shut up,” I bite out.

The four of us plan on making a sign for notifying the others if anyone finds an exit.

Aang and Katara take one of the passageways. He is delighted, nearly tapping with each step he takes; it makes worry sting at my gut. He doesn’t know what is hidden in these tunnels. (I think none of us really know.)

Katara watches him go in first. Her head turns to me briefly, her eyes stare intently at mine. Steady. Strong.

I return her gaze with the same force. _Be careful_.

She nods.

I watch her go in next.

Sokka’s equally idiotic hand lands on my shoulder. “Looks like it’s boys' night out, Zuko!”

I groan.

*******

“So, there are skeletons hidden in the walls?” Sokka queries while we advance farther inside the walkway.

The texture of the walls is rougher on this one. If what Sokka deduced about someone performing maintenance is true, perhaps that maintenance is incomplete. Perhaps they will come back to finish it.

We have to escape before they do.

“Not _in_ the walls,” I clarify, passing one of my hands over the irregular texture, “I think each of these tunnels leads to a death trap, and the remnants of old corpses are entombed in them.”

“Then it isn’t all that much of a good idea to wander around like this.”

“What other options do we have?” I ask. “Genuine question, since you are the one that figured out there is somebody else that could know about the Air Nomad village.”

“I’m afraid not even my geniality can come up with much on this one,” he says, “By the way, sorry that you’re stuck walking with me, I know you’d prefer hanging out with… _someone_ else.”

I glare at him from the corner of my eye. “Forget it, let’s keep moving.”

My steps resound the more I try to speed up, but I can _hear_ Sokka’s godawful mocking smirk!

“Aang must be having fun on his date tonight, though.”

“Hey!” I halt and turn to face him. “That one is _not_ a date!”

His smirk deepens; one of his eyebrows arches into a knowing expression. (Shit!)

I turn around yet again.

“Jealousy is such an unattractive emotion, Zuko,” he says.

I scoff. “Jealous? Why would _I_ be jealous?”

“You tell me, you are the one that goes all grumpy whenever Aang goes hearty-eyed for Katara.”

“I don’t– ”

“Yes, you do. Like, no shame, man. I wouldn’t be thrilled either if I saw a random dude flirting with the girl I like.”

The girl I like…

I feel my face warming up.

A part of me wants to deny that I like Katara – not… not because I truly _dis_ like her, I just… don’t _like_ her in the way Sokka is implying.

Yet… another part of me wonders if I _do_ like Katara in _that_ way.

I want to sigh and pull at my hair at the same time. Everything is so confusing lately, I try to keep everything and everyone at arm’s length, but I _can’t_! Things continue getting to me! Memories, feelings. I get triggered at the smallest things, and then I can’t properly articulate what is happening to me. I can’t make sense of _anything_! Because nothing _has_ any sense! Every day I go on being assaulted by these weird sensations, by old recollections and new emotions, and I don’t know how to act, what is it even that I should do or say.

It isn’t just Katara, is _everything_. This new era, these mountains, the Air Nomads’ fear and rejection of me, this labyrinth they used to escape the people from _my_ country – people like _me_ – because they were trying to _kill_ them, and dead bodies of people I didn’t know…

I pass a hand down my face, I can’t get distracted now. If I want all of us to get out of here safely, I can’t afford any more distractions.

**Katara**

“Aang, wait up!” I call out. “Don’t walk so ahead!”

He stops long enough for me to catch up. His eyes circle around the tunnel, eager and excited, even when there isn’t much to see or enough light to discern anything beyond mere shadows.

“Sorry, Katara,” he apologizes, “It’s just that I like getting to know new places.”

“That I can see,” I say with a smile. “But just don’t get too separated from me, okay? These tunnels are dangerous; Zuko and I already went through some of them.”

A shiver shakes me in my spot. It’s too mild for Aang to notice, but it leaves a cold sensation that I try to rub off from my arms. I remember the corpses we found at those peaks…

My eyes find Aang’s silhouette in the middle of the darkness; I can only picture the memory I have of him: a sweet boy with big, sparkly gray eyes and a big smile. I have to protect him from more sights like the one we found…

But I also wish I was with Zuko now.

At least, I wish we were all together as a group. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to talk much with him and ask how he feels after finding those skeletons, but I would feel like I was doing _something_ to make him feel better. _Trying_ to do something.

Everything that has happened tonight keeps putting me on edge. First, my brother almost dies _twice_. Now, I feel like I am not doing enough – that nothing _is_ enough – to protect my friends, and I become disillusioned about my vision of the Avatar–

No. Not disillusioned, I…

**Zuko**

“This is impossible!” I yell. “There can’t be a dead-end in here!”

“Apparently there _is_ ,” Sokka notes.

I hit my palm against the squared walls. They are as solid as the rest of the construction, immovable.

“But there wasn’t anything that indicated that.”

He shrugs. “Life is as it comes, Zuko.”

The walls open then, the two lateral ones.

They reveal other dark caves, caves that begin drawing in the air around us. _Air conduits_.

The current is tornado-like in its strength, my ears plug because of it. Its force is too much for us to resist it without anything to hold onto.

My feet glide over the floor as I am dragged inside.

“Zuko!”

The conduit at the other side of the corridor is pulling Sokka in.

I try to reach for him but the current keeps hauling me away. “Sokka!”

The caves swallow us in, the walls close.

**Katara**

“It looks like this is a dead-end, Katara,” Aang says, eyeing the surroundings.

“It looks like it,” I repeat.

Suddenly the two walls at each side of the corridor glide up. They discover air conduits that start sucking in everything inside this tunnel.

Aang and I included.

“Katara!”

“Aang!”

None of us has time to reach for the other. I watch his shocked eyes disappear behind a closing wall, and then… darkness.

*******

**Zuko**

After the conduits, the next thing I know is that I am sliding down a slope. For a long while, everything is dark, until another aperture opens, and I crash and roll over the floor.

“ _Whoa!_ ”

I am in a sealed room, somewhat similar to the one Katara and I found earlier, save that this one doesn’t have any concrete peaks. The only similarities are the small ruptures on the walls from where the moonlight comes in, and the same wide doorframe nearing the ceiling. The one which, I assume, is the only exit to this room because the aperture from which I came is quick to close itself.

_Oh, no._

**Katara**

“ _Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh–_ ”

My scream drowns – literally – when the ramp for which I was falling delivers me inside a pool filled with mossy water. It’s almost totally covered by plant life…. and it’s soooooooooooooo _cold_!

I cough out the water I almost gulped while I tremble and embrace myself.

My teeth chatter.

_Freezing, freezing, freezing!_

**Sokka**

“ _Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!_ ”

Those stupid conduits took me to fall down an endless hole!

No, you know what? Scratch that. I would have preferred an endless hole to hit my head against the floor the way I did.

And I would have preferred to just hit my head against the floor _without_ the floor turning into some creepy, out-of-blue platform that almost crashes me against the roof.

_Uh-oh._

**Aang**

I surf through the air the conduits sucked in. It’s pretty fun, actually, I should do this more often. If we had more air conduits like these ones at the village.

Maybe I could just come to this place more often.

No, I can’t do that, the Council of Elders could find out, they already know that I used to escape to the Air Temple. (They don’t know I’m still going there.) But still, this is fun.

The end of the dark cave I was surfing through turned out to be an empty room.

Momo comes out of my shirt again, squawking.

“I don’t know, Momo,” I say, petting him, “Something weird happened at the tunnels, we have to find the others.”

There is an improvised climbing wall there, too, but there are only three stages on it and very separated from each other. There’s also a door at the top of it.

 _Oh, I get it_.

“Momo, get back inside my shirt and hold on.”

He does.

Walking to the climbing wall, I only jump and impulse myself with mini-tornados from my feet to scale it until I get to the door.

“There we go,” I say to Momo. “Easy peasy. I wonder how the others are doing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!! By the way, you may want to take a break here because the next chapter is a bit intense. 
> 
> By the way, if you'd like to know ways to help me keep writing, please, please, **PLEASE** see the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com/


	23. Chapter 二十二: Loneliness

**Katara**

_Perfect_ , I think with each tiny crash between my teeth. My wet hair falls over my eyes. _Fantastic._

I swim over to the verge of the pool and push myself out.

_Freezing, freezing, freezing!_

And it’s worse now with the winter iciness surrounding me. I embrace myself tighter and rub my arms to fight the awful, awful, _awful_ coldness! Sure, I am _used_ to the cold, I even walk over snow barefoot, but _not_ when I’m soaking wet in dangerously cold water! 

I have to get out of here.

Now, where am I again?

It doesn’t look like another deathtrap, (thank Spirits). It doesn’t look like much, just another abandoned room with more vines and roots hanging from the rooftop – another cape of earth with some holes from the plants growing through it.

It’s almost palace-like. (And the fancy decorative pool adds a _lot_ to that image.) It would be beautiful if I was seeing it in other circumstances.

Speaking about seeing, I think there’s a door on the other side of the room; I scoot over to it.

It’s locked, and it has no doorknob. ( _Of course_.) Instead, it has a bulging spot with small punctures.

I try hitting the door, but it’s solid as the concrete on the walls, it won’t move.

Darn, the temperature is getting lower!

I kneel down so my eyes are the same height of that weird knob, touching and studying blindly to see if there’s something – anything! – that will tell me how to open it. The more I probe, I can feel the lines and slits of a carving; they are spirals, and in an Air Nomad arrange. This must be one of those doors that open with airbending…

I bite my lip. That does _not_ come in handy to me.

Or maybe it _does._

It’s a _maybe_ , just a _maybe_ , but…

I return to the decorative pool. While my hand slowly snakes up, the water follows it, moving almost like a serpent itself. I cut the flow off when I have an amount around the same size as that circle on the stone door, and I make it float to it, too.

_Okay, Katara, just focus and…_

Nothing.

I add more pressure; nothing. Then I pressure it some more, but _still_ nothing!

_Urgh!_

Okay. Think: When was the last time my waterbending worked as effectively as I need it now?

When Sokka made me angry and I broke Zuko’s iceberg. I had never bent like that before.

_I melted ice in polar temperatures, I got the tides out of their course._

Let’s see. Think about something that makes you angry, Katara.

When Sokka almost gets himself killed.

That’s good. What else?

Uh… Dad makes me angry. (Where is _he_ right now, protecting us?) (How is _leaving_ your children behind protecting them?)

My palms tingle.

Not being listened to makes me angry. We could have avoided _all_ this mess – the labyrinth, the skeletons – if nobody had wanted to get into a war-themed boys club or act all _manly_ to prove they weren’t afraid of coming to a forbidden labyrinth!

The water’s particles morph under my hands, it’s somewhat of a waving sensation. They are breaking themselves, I can sense the cracking and the ruptures.

Incapacity makes me angry! I can’t even _boil_ water with my own bending, for Spirit’s sake!

The particles are changing, moving, transforming into new ones; I can feel it. A small sting splashes against my palm.

The War makes me angry! Everything and everyone I have lost makes me angry! Leaving me to do everything, fix everything, solve everything makes me angry! Telling me I have to behave in front of people like Zhao in order to survive makes me angry! Maybe I don’t want to survive, not if it is like this! I want to fight, I want to _win_!

There isn’t any water anymore. There’s steam.

_Yes!_

I try to keep it enclosed in my hands as I can, and I approach it to the door. (I just hope it is dense enough.)

The holes in the door inhale it with a sharp sound. Suddenly I hear the door’s security device shifting, when it quietens down, I push the door open.

 _Yes!_ I owe Sokka a plate of seal jerky!

**Sokka**

This is fine. I’m fine.

Like, I am who-knows-how-many-feet away from the floor, but seriously, I’m _fine!_

It could be worse, the platform that shot up when I fell could have crushed me against the rooftop, (and this one is not soil, is concrete.) (Like the platform itself.)

I push myself to stand up, but my club falls. When it gets to the ground, another square platform climbs almost at my height. _Almost_.

Huh.

Awesome! The floor has motion sensors!

I look around for a door of sorts, and I find one. Right over the ground. Where it belongs. Only _who-knows-how-many-feet_ beneath me.

(I think I’m coming down with vertigo.)

But, this is _fine!_ I have a plan!

I take out my boomerang, too. “Don’t worry, Booms,” I tell him, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Then I drop it.

It’s just a matter of touching the ground and another stage rises, but shorter than the other two. The sensors’ mechanism activates in relation to the object’s amount of mass.

This can still work.

I look down at the closest stage to mine, the one with my club. The breach between the two is not too big; the stage is relatively close, only… low. Just a _little_ low. A tinny-bitty. Which is… _still_ totally fine.

I walk over to the edge so I can jump.

Then I turn around.

How is it that Zuko does; just jump and we’ll go from there? Sorry, I’m pretty fond of _not_ breaking my skull split open, I’ll come up with a better method... but _what_ other method there is? These stages are not very wide, to begin with! If at _least_ I could reach the club from here, I could keep throwing it down to improvise a staircase. Where is Katara with her water tentacles when I need her? She’s probably still going through the channels and death traps–

Spirits, my little sister is walking in a labyrinth filled with deathtraps! (Reality hits _hard!_ ) I have to go get her!

Fine… For Katara… This is for Katara…

_Ah!_

I jump (cringe) (jump and cringe at the same time) and my eyes remain closed a tad longer after I land on the damn platform.

I sigh.

Picking up the club, I use it to make another stage, and then another. When I get to Boomerang’s, I start throwing it in order to make shorter ones that resemble more a real staircase.

And it worked, I got to the door! Ha, who says my plans never work?

I gasp. Katara says that; I have to go look for her!

**Zuko**

I have to get out of here and search for the others. But the door is too high, I wouldn’t be able to reach it not even if I ran across the walls or jumped.

This room is reminiscing of that pit where Sokka and I fell: squared, impenetrable.

If I ran through the walls, I would only be able to get to the middle, and using my bending as propulsion wouldn’t get me high enough either. Not in a way that would have me landing directly in the pathway, I would have to hold on to the brink and push myself up. But with the wound of my arm…

I sigh resignedly and squeeze the bridge of my nose. I continue being cornered into these situations where my only option seems to be making reckless decisions. I try – I _really_ try – but nothing that I do appears to be enough to safeguard others and then myself. I continue hurting myself. I can’t find better solutions. _Everything_ I try comes back to slap me in the face. 

_But I am not giving up._

The thought encourages me to start running.

I manage to get slightly above the middle, and I impulse myself with a mild fire shot from my feet before I fall back down. My arm is still weak when I hold on to the doorframe’s verge. My shoulder’s muscles are giving in; I am slipping.

_I am not giving up. I won’t give up. I am…_

It is difficult, and it hurts. My wound is beating. But I manage to crawl into the passage.

*******

This part of the labyrinth is different from the rest. The hallways are in a complex arrangement, there are various of them in every turn and each leads to a different direction, but the strange part is that the more I walk, the construction grows more refined in style. Still deserted and these parts are slightly deteriorated, however, the design becomes increasingly extravagant for an underground structure. Like a mansion. Or a Palace.

_A Palace…_

The sound of footsteps makes me freeze, they sound close and approaching. I hide into the shadows of the walkways, attentive, and doing my best to control my breath; I am panting. The memory of the Fire Palace got under my skin.

_The Fire Palace. The Fire Nation. The nobles. The Agni Kai chamber…_

“ _Urgh_ , this is impossible!”

“ _Katara?_ ” I say, stepping out.

Her eyes grow when they find me. (Against all odds, their color seems clearer in contrast to the darkness and illumed by the flame in my hand.)

A wide smile breaks through her face, “Zuko!”

It is a dark flash before she crashes against me, and such a shock to my system when her arms wrap around my neck that I don’t get to register it properly. I was seeing red fire and black smoke before she arrived… now I can only see blissful white.

**Katara**

Zuko doesn’t return my hug for several seconds, a part of me wants to wait until he does… _if_ he does. But that’s the point, it’s an _if_. I have to let go before the moment becomes more awkward.

“Sorry,” I apologize.

It’s a literal blink the way his eyes awaken, growing from static to broad and surprised. Understanding sparkles in them, then guilt and remorse turn them glassy.

“Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean to – I mean, I…” he stutters.

“Forget it,” I say, and I mean it.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, neither do I. His fingers twitch, as if he wanted to do something with his hands.

“Wait, why are you soaking wet?”

I groan. “You don’t want to know.”

“And… you have a leaf… on your hair,” his hand finally extends towards me. A few dripping ends of my hair brush his knuckles when he takes a piece of nearly fluorescent green plant life away from my head.

“Oh, my gosh! It’s so embarrassing!” My face falls to my hands.

“What happened to you?”

“Trust me: you _really_ don’t want to know. And where’s Sokka?”

“We got separated,” he indicates. “Where is Aang?”

“We got separated, too.”

A second passes, during which we stare at each other.

“Dead end at the end of your tunnel?” he asks.

“Moving walls and air conduits in yours?” I finish.

This time, we both groan.

“It’s this damn labyrinth!” I cry out. “When we get out of here, we will be perfect guests to Gyatso and we will follow through with _everything_ he says!”

“Deal, but first we _have_ to get out of here,” he reminds me. “And more importantly, we have to keep you from catching bronchitis.”

His hands come to my shoulders, probably to provide a share of human warmth and probably this is for the flame that was floating over his right hand just a moment ago, but they are _burning_ compared to the coldness I was feeling. I shiver at the clash of temperatures.

“You shouldn’t walk around in wet clothes,” Zuko says.

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“You want to take my jacket?”

My mouth opens… but I close it just as quickly.

“No, thanks,” I say, “I wouldn’t want you to be the one freezing instead of me.”

“You know I can regulate my body temperature,” he recalls. “I will be fine.”

( _I_ won’t be.) (I won’t be with this weird thing going on between us.)

“Zuko, I’ll be fine, too,” I assure him. “Trust me.”

Once more, he doesn’t say anything, not right away. For his expression, I think he realizes asking for my trust right now would come out as hypocrite, but also…

“Katara, I am _worried_ about you.”

I only stare at him.

He is being sincere – on _this_ , at the very least – but I want to ask _why_ is he worried at all, why is he worried about _me._

He keeps closing himself off, maintaining me as far away as he can; with every step that I take to come close, he takes one back. It’s not that I don’t respect it, I just don’t _understand_ it. (What is the point in spending time with people you don’t care to befriend?) That might be why I thought I was disappointed in him earlier.

I am not disappointed; I am confused.

And hurt.

His features are truthfully worn down with worry though. I can tell despite the obscurity, for how close we are standing.

“Okay,” I nod.

**Zuko**

I take off my jacket and give it to Katara. She takes off her own parka, the rest of her clothes underneath it are also wet and sticking to her body. I look away while she changes.

In some way, I think it is out of respect _and_ for giving myself time to detach from the moment and think. Or to refrain from hitting myself on the face.

The thoughts I was having earlier tonight return; those weird feelings and the doubt whether what to do or say. I am acutely aware of Katara’s presence next to me, I remember how cold she was when I touched her… and I am not _completely_ clueless, I get that this is bothering her, too, and causing tension between us, but… there is something that I can’t…

“Thanks again for the jacket,” she says, accommodating it on her shoulders. “It is comfy.”

“No need to thank me,” I reply.

She begins to undo her braids then. I must have reacted to it somehow because she explains: “It is damaging for the hair to have it wet and braided.”

“Oh,” I mutter. “I… um… I didn’t know.”

“Now you do,” she comments. “C’mon, let’s go find Sokka and Aang.”

We navigate across the corridors in silence, Katara continues combing her hair with her fingers as we walk. Her hair looks thicker when loose. And shorter and shinier when it is wet…

“You should keep your eyes ahead.”

She barely has time to finish her sentence before I crash against a wall.

“Are you okay?” I can hear the small amused smile in her voice.

“Yes,” I unglue my face from the wall, covering it with my hand. “Sorry, I was… distracted.”

“I see…” she murmurs, contemplatively.

We resume walking.

“You… um… you look good with your hair loose,” I comment. “I mean, your _hair_ is the one that looks good. But… but the rest of you looks good, too! Wait, that came out wrong. I meant…”

Katara giggles. “Zuko, _relax_ ,” she emphasizes. “And thank you for noticing. About my hair, I mean.”

“Right,” I say. “No need to thank me.”

She smiles. I look away.

“Don’t you think it’s odd that this part of the labyrinth looks so little like a labyrinth and more like a mansion?” she muses.

“I was thinking that same thing. It reminds of the Fire Palace.”

“Really? That’s strange for an Air Nomad building.”

“This could date back from before the War started.”

“The Fire Nation had a good relationship with the other countries then?”

I take a long moment to answer. “Not really. My father wasn’t eager to develop diplomatic relationships, he was… overconfident about his government and the Fire Nation’s strength.”

“Overconfident,” Katara repeats as if she tasted the word and it had a bitter flavor.

“Sorry,” I apologize. “I get that… it isn’t pleasing to talk about him.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she assures. “It’s just… You don’t seem all that fond of your family yourself.”

I pause yet again. “I am not.”

**Katara**

_‘I am not.’_

Contradicting emotions and thoughts form in my head. I could be happier upon Zuko’s answer or relieved… if his eyes were not so broken and his voice so weak when he said it.

From what I have learned, there are reasons – personal reasons – for his father not to occupy a big place in his heart. I know he had hurt Zuko in one way or the other. And it is bizarre because, normally, I would attribute that innate cruelty to the Fire Nation Royal Family in general. But Zuko is part of the Fire Nation Royal Family, too.

 _And he is only human,_ I remember.

“You think Sokka and Aang are okay?” I ask, a little bit to change the subject.

“I bet that they are.”

“Do you think Aang could have found other corpses?”

“I don’t know. You and I have not found any other so far.”

I nod meditatively. “By the way, I’m sorry that you had to see those skeletons, too.”

His gaze falls. “Don’t worry about me.”

He halts. “Hey, don’t you see light over there?”

I do, actually, at the end of another one of the multiple turns in this place.

We walk towards it. (It looks more like a _reflection_ of light.) (It isn’t until we get to the end of the corridor that we find out why.) We arrive at a cupule, a _glass_ cupule.

“ _Whoa!_ ” I say.

It is buried under the earth and the snow as well, only that the change of the seasons must have brushed a bit of them away to allow the light to pass the transparent ceiling. From there, the rest of the sphere goes down beneath the subsoil.

All of it would be a more interesting and stunning view if there weren’t more Fire Nation skeletons scattered over the floor.

My voice is thin, like the hiss of a serpent, “Is this another death trap?”

“I can’t tell,” Zuko answers in a similar tone. “It is empty, there is nothing that could serve as a threat.”

He is right. Save for a thick line with holes going through the middle, the rest of the cupule is complete, harmless crystal. And there aren’t traces of blood in here.

“We have to keep Aang away from here,” he says.

I nod.

My eyes go back to the bones. “Shouldn’t we do something for the corpses?”

It feels… _wrong_ to leave them like this.

Zuko also turns to them for a brief moment. Only a brief moment. It isn’t enough for me to figure out what emotions cross his face, but I know there is something there–

“We can’t run the risk that Sokka is right and somebody else will tell we intruded this place,” he concludes, “we have to leave.”

Before I have time to blink, he is already walking back into the pitch-black hallway.

I follow him, listening to our steps echo.

“You don’t always have to act like nothing affects you.”

He doesn’t turn to me for answering. “You think nothing affects me?”

“I think you try really hard to act like they don’t,” I explain, “but things get to you. They hurt you, right? And they make you feel confused. That’s why you act so angry all the time, don’t you?”

**Zuko**

I know that I am angry _now_.

I stop dead on my tracks and turn to look at Katara; she returns my stare uninterruptedly, unafraid.

Her eyes are still clearer in the dimness.

Like real water, they reflect the light from my fire, but different, distorted. Instead of golden yellow, it is blinding white.

I wouldn’t notice that if we weren’t standing so close. If she wasn’t always so close to me.

And it makes me angry because I am so used to be left alone. That is the key: I am _used_ to that, I _know_ how to deal with that, not with this. Not with Katara standing so confident and open in front of me, inspiring me that confidence.

We are interrupted by the sound of voices:

“I’m telling you, Sokka, this place is awesome!”

“Aang, just calm down, okay?”

Katara and I run to their voices. “Aang, Sokka!”

Sokka immediately picks Katara up from the floor once he gets to her. “Katara!”

He actually _lifts_ her from the ground in an embrace and spins around with her in his arms. “Don’t you ever get lost like that again!” he whines. “But wait, why are you wet?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” she indicates as he puts her down.

“And why are you wearing Zuko’s jacket?”

“That is…” I trail off “another long story.”

His eyes shoot between Katara and me. She and I look somewhere else, I rub the back of my neck.

“ _Right_ ,” he drags the word. “You’ll tell me about it later. In the meantime, can someone _please_ smack some reason into Aang? He wants to _stay_ here!”

Katara and I choke: “ _What?_ ”

“He thinks all the Air Nomad stuff in here are fun! He doesn’t want to leave!”

“That can’t be,” I say. “Aang – ”

He isn’t here anymore.

_Where –_

The end of the corridor. The cupule.

Katara, Sokka, and I run to the weak, bluish light; we almost slither over the floor when we halt. Aang is already there, staring at the skeletons. His dark outline looks even smaller and more fragile in front of them.

Katara rushes to him.

“Aang!” she hugs him. “Never leave like that again.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Aang, do not look at them,” I tell him.

He remains silent. His eyes fixed on the bones.

“We are leaving. _Now_ ,” my voice is firm.

But before we have the chance, when Sokka steps into the room, the entrance closes with a rock-solid barrier.

“Oh, come _on_!” Sokka complains.

The sound of a mechanism activates beneath us, I assume it is hidden amidst the soil surrounding this sphere. The holes in the black line circling the cupule start making a strange, loud sound. Too loud, deafening. It is plugging my ears. They are… _absorbing_ the air.

_Oh, Agni!_

That is how the Fire Nation soldiers died. That is the reason why there isn’t blood on this trap.

They suffocated.

_Oh, Spirits!_

“We have to get out of here,” I yell.

Katara, Sokka, and Aang are all as panicked as I am; I can see it in their eyes. Their lively, wide, sensitive eyes.

I have to get them out of here.

“Aang, can you use your airbending to stop those things?” Katara questions.

He finally responds: “Let me try.”

He does, pulling and gathering the air in front of him, but the force of the suction is too much, the air inevitably follows the current.

He continues struggling, but it is futile. “I can’t keep it here!”

“Zuko, can you try to break the top of the cupule?” Sokka points to it.

“Let me try with firebending,” I say. “All of you, cover yourselves.”

I shoot as big of a fire blast as I can to the ceiling, but the irregular flow of air is also making my fire come out deformed and altered. I go blind when it hits against the top, the fire deflects and flies everywhere, but the glass didn’t succumb.

“Try again,” Katara insists. “Please.”

I do. It is still not enough.

I keep launching attacks, one after the other. Fast, continued, _desperate_ ; growling at the ineffectiveness _._ The combustion keeps blinding me.My fire is becoming weaker for the growing lack of air. I am fighting… to only grasp air to breathe.

“Guys, calm down,” Sokka says. He looks… dizzy, unsteady, with his hand on his throat. “Breathe slowly.”

His voice is difficult to hear under the commotion, it is too… hoarse. So much hoarse. Dying.

My throat… feels… weird.

Katara and Aang hold their own necks and mouths trying to keep the remaining air from escaping.

Their figures are becoming blurry. I am… giddy.

Choking noises come out of my sore throat.

“Zuko.”

My eyes can only focus on unclear shadows, but when they lift upon Katara’s voice, I can see her.

I see Katara.

Only a little.

I cling to the sight of her.

Her eyes are big. Enormous. Reddish. But not broken. _Not broken_. It is as if somehow they kept a small piece of hope. 

Aang and Sokka already fainted. Aang’s body seems smaller now.

Katara’s hand is slightly extended towards me as if trying to reach for me.

I am…

I can’t…

I feel like I can’t move.

But my hand moves slightly towards her.

**Katara**

Zuko is turning blurrier.

More unclear.

Just like Sokka just moments ago.

I keep… believing… there will be… a way… to… get us out of here.

I keep trying… to get to Zuko… to try… to help him. But I can’t.

I can’t even… help myself.

I keep… hoping… there is a way to escape this place. Because I have… seen Zuko… do amazing things.

And I can’t… blindly trust him… because he isn’t this… idealized version… that I had… of an Avatar… or a friend.

But if he was… he wouldn’t be… this close.

So close...

_He wouldn’t… be… human._

I faint.

**Zuko**

Katara’s body drops.

Just like Aang’s.

Just like Sokka’s.

I have… to get them out of here.

_I am not giving up._

Using whatever strength I have left, I drag myself to one of the orifices.

_I am not giving up._

I put my hand over it.

_I am not giving up…_

_I am_ …

Power awakens in me.

*******

“Zuko!” A hand slaps my face softly. “Zuko, wake up.”

“Gyatso?” I cough, ungluing my back from the snow on top of which I am laying.

My chest and my throat feel raw. Heavy.

“Zuko, you are okay!” Katara’s arms come around me, crushing me.

_Katara._

_I see her kneeled, I see her fainting._

“Katara!” I exclaim once the thoughts and memories become clear. “What happened? We were in that godawful cupule, and then– ”

“You entered the Avatar State,” Sokka explains, sitting not too far away from us. “You shot an airbending blast that exploded the mechanism that was sucking the air.”

“You saved us, Zuko!” Aang comes along to join the hug.

My eyes go over to Gyatso standing on his feet, looking down at us.

“Oh, right,” Sokka says, “Turns out that thing went on for _miles_ so Gyatso could hear the explosion _just fine_ from the camp. He is the one that came to look for us. He had to break the glass from the outside.”

His thumb hooks to the side and I follow it to find the remnants of what used to be the visible part of the underground cupule. Now it is just broken glass.

“Oh, Spirits, Gyatso, we are so sorry!” I say, standing up now that Katara and Aang let go of me. “It was all stupid idea and we didn’t mean to– ”

He waves one hand as if discarding it, his facial features never lose their affable appearance. “It is okay, Zuko. After such an eventful night, I am only glad the four of you are safe.”

Katara, Aang, Sokka, and I sigh in relief.

“But also, you are grounded. The _four_ of you. You will be primping all the flying bisons back at the village for the rest of the week.”

*******

Gyatso takes us back to the camp.

(It can’t be that the sun hasn’t come up already, not after everything that has happened.)

I am exhausted. And thinking too much.

My heart is beating too fast despite barely having the energy to move my body. My boots dig profoundly into the snow, it is awfully painstaking to take a single step.

“By the way, Zuko,” Katara calls before we get into our tents. “Have your jacket back. Thanks again for letting me borrow it.”

I blink hard as she takes the ruby red jacket off.

_Right, I gave it to her because her parka was wet._

If it wasn’t because Katara hasn’t braided her hair again, and because she is actually wearing my jacket, I would have attributed it all to a dream. Everything back at that labyrinth feels like a dream, like different nightmares in one. But Katara was a good one, a good dream amidst the nightmares.

I approach her at the entrance of her tent. “Thanks,” I say when she hands me the jacket.

“Thanks to _you_ ,” she smiles.

Her skin is glowing, healthy, sparkling, but her eyes are tired.

I follow her hand as she takes her own wrists.

“The bruises on your wrists are healing already,” I say, catching a glimpse of the bluish stains on her brown skin, the ones she got back at that pier shortly after we met.

“Oh, yes. They are getting better.”

Amidst everything that happened tonight – (the cliff.) (The skeletons.) (The death traps!) (We almost _suffocate_!) – the first thing that comes to my mind is:

“You never told me if you wanted to talk about that.”

Katara rubs her wrists gently, covering the marks. For a moment, her gaze becomes lost. “I don’t, really,” she murmurs through the cold wind. “I guess now I understand if there are things that you don’t want to talk about either.”

I look down.

“We are friends. Right, Zuko?”

The question surprises me.

It is not so much the question, though, it is the word _friends_.

I don’t know… I am not _used_ to having friends. I… I don’t think I am… someone easy to befriend. Or to _remain_ friends with. That is what I want Katara to understand.

It is scary for me, and I clench my fist in the jacket on my arms to ease the anxiety.

 _I don’t want you to become disappointed in me_ , I think. _I don’t want you to think I am not good enough._

I stay silent, overthinking, and I leave Katara’s question unanswered. (Not that I think it would have been much better if I spoke.)

Disappointment and hurt wear her features down, making her face almost as dark as the night. My fist clenches harder.

“ _I_ consider you my friend.”

My eyes dart back up to her after her words, but it is too late. She already left for her tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!! By the way, you may want to take a break here because the next chapter is a bit intense. 
> 
> By the way, if you'd like to know ways to help me keep writing, please, please, **PLEASE** see the pinned post on my Tumblr page: https://heavensweetheart.tumblr.com/


	24. Chapter 二十三: Healing energy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very happy to finally be posting this chapter!! I've been meaning to publish it since days ago, but you probably know about all the news regarding the series and Netflix and etc, and how overwhelming the ATLA fandom is on a regular day, it's worse when news like this breakthrough. Besides, I've been getting lots of mocking comments for this AU on other sites, and people making fun of first-person writing. And then there are all the troubles some idiots are causing to this site and... Well, my mental health is probably not at its top atm, but writing this story makes me feel better! :-) Thanks to all of you for your amazing comments and support! :-*
> 
> And also, if you'd like to know ways to help me keep writing, please see the pinned post on my Tumblr page: heavensweetheart.tumblr.com

**Zuko**

Aang looks down at us from Appa’s back. “Guys, don’t panic when the scarab-turtles come out!”

He uses a horizontal airbending move to ruffle and comb Appa’s hair, and the scarab-turtle horde escapes from it unnerved. Gross! Despite his warning, Sokka _does_ panics when the cringe-inducing things start moving in our direction. Not that I blame him, but I swear, one more of his ear-breaking screams and I am losing my eardrums for good! He clings to Katara, using her as a shield.

“I told you not to panic,” Aang jumps down from Appa and starts shooing the scarabs away with a broom.

“Sokka had a bad experience with insects once when he was on a trip with our dad,” Katara explains.

“I _swear_ they were making a nest in my hair!” Sokka protests.

“Scarab-turtles don’t make nests, Sokka,” Katara counters.

“This is ridiculous,” I grit, “I am royalty, I shouldn’t be doing these things!”

“Oh, really? How many bison primping employees did you have at your palace, your Majesty-Sir-Lord?” Sokka mocks.

“Shut up! You are the one that got us stuck with this punishment for all the past week!”

An _entire_ week that I have spent washing bison’s mouths, getting fleas out of their fur, getting their hair all over my clothes, cleaning their feet… _Ugh!_

“ _My_ fault?”

“Yes, Mister ‘Let’s all go to a forbidden labyrinth that could get us all _killed_ ’!”

“And _who_ went there just to prove that nobody bosses him around, huh, tough guy?”

Katara groans, her hands fly to her head. “Boys, I don’t want you to fight anymore!”

Sokka points accusingly to me. “It was your boyfriend who started it!”

Katara gives a swift, abrupt spin to confront him; her eyes are lighted up with ferocity, “How many times do I have to tell you that Zuko. Is. Not. My. _Boyfriend!_ ”

The broom she was holding hits the ground harshly when she drops it. Tiny bits of snow and dirt jump from the floor. Katara doesn’t give those or either Sokka or me a second look before stomping away in fury. 

Sokka runs after her. “Katara, come back, we still have to brush the other bisons!”

I stay behind, watching her leave.

She doesn’t turn back once, her head is high in a gracious pose… but also an offended one. Her steps are as firm as her words: _‘Zuko is not my boyfriend.’_

Something shifts in my stomach; (I think I am coming down with… something.)

Aang stood watching our argument from beside.

“Being a grown-up seems complicated,” he muses.

 _Sokka was right_ , I think. Aang _is_ a smart boy.

Lately, his eyes are different, their characteristic brightness is not there anymore, they look a darker shade of gray, one that makes the brown and hazel touches at their edges more notorious. And his eyelids are downer, I wonder if he has been getting enough sleep.

My mind flashes back to when we found him staring at the Fire Nation skeletons at the labyrinth. (Aang has a natural fragile appearance, aside from the obvious that he is short and skinny, but at that moment, he looked frail like a doll.) (Devoid of human emotion.)

My fists clench strongly at my sides. We haven’t talked about that ever since, I guess I should have addressed it somehow, but I am not good with kids… Or I don’t _think_ that I am.

I want to rip off my own hair! (Why is it so difficult to just _make_ friends?)

Gyatso walks by the bisons’ stables. “Everything okay over here?”

“Yep,” Aang answers.

“Where are Katara and Sokka?”

“They… um…” I search for a good enough excuse without revealing too much “… went to look for another broom?”

_Why did that come out as a question?_

“Uh-huh,” Gyatso mutters. “Well, if that’s the case, Zuko is time for your airbending training. Aang, Katara, and Sokka will finish brushing the bisons.”

“Going,” I say. “Bye, Aang.”

His voice drops. “Bye, Zuko.”

I jump over the fence to meet with Gyatso.

*******

“How is your relationship with your new friends going, Zuko?”

Saying that Gyatso’s question catches me out of guard is a euphemism.

Today is unusually sunny for a winter day. Some of the sunrays creep between the tree leaves, and Gyatso is getting most of it, but he doesn’t seem to mind much. He was silent for the largest part of our road to the training area, it gave me time to get lost in my thoughts… My thoughts about Aang, Katara, and Sokka and how much they hate me right now.

“I… um… good!” I lie. “Good, excellent.”

“I am glad to hear that, I thought I had seen you fighting a lot with Sokka and Katara lately.”

My mouth falls open, but then I shut it close; my teeth click.

“Not with Katara,” I say, finally.

Katara barely talks to me.

Katara is avoiding me.

Katara _hates_ me!

And it is not that I _blame_ her for it, but I also want her to stop, but I also can’t talk to her because I am _me_ , and an idiot, and… Ugh!

I _want_ to talk to her. I really, really, really do, but I don’t know _how_!

 _Hey, Katara. So, what I said about us being friends… or what I didn’t say. The thing is… I did want to say something, I just didn’t know what. No, wait, it is not that I didn’t know what to say, because I_ did _know what to say. Like, I knew the satisfying answer to that question. But you don’t really want to hear me calling it a ‘satisfying’ answer to your question. What I meant is…_

I growl aloud.

“I’ll make a risky guess from that and say things aren’t going as great as you say,” Gyatso notes.

“I don’t know what they want from me,” I retort, frustrated, “We barely know each other.”

“I think they want to be your friends.”

“I don’t have _friends_ , okay? I do things _alone_!”

“And how has that worked for you so far?”

I stop myself from speaking when I realize the answer is _‘Not very well’_.

Gyatso side-eyes me and I scowl. “Whatever. What do _you_ know?”

*******

Gyatso puts me to walk in circles. Literally.

It is an ancient airbending exercise: the dais in the forest has smaller-diameter circles carved into its surface and I have to walk around their edges in low stances[1]. Gyatso watches me closely. We haven’t done much progress in airbending practice the last week. He quitted his efforts to make me meditate, (and I am thankful for that), but none of the other airbending methods works in me either. Gyatso says I am too harsh, too impatient, and that airbending is supposed to train sensitivity and softness. But I know for a fact that it is also meant to teach straightforwardness and the ability to shock your opponents. That would be useful for me… if I could only create a single breeze of air on command.

“Hey,” I say, without abandoning my steps, “How long do you think it will take before I can actually airbend?”

Gyatso watches me in silence for a few more seconds, his eyes linger on my joints and bandages. (In the end, I didn’t need stitching on my shoulder.) “I think that depends on you.”

He does not shrug, but his tone and his energy are way too relaxed to not feel trivializing.

“What do you mean?” I press.

Does he think I am not making enough effort to improve? Just _who_ does he think he is?

No, maybe it _is_ that I am not making enough effort to improve; I could be better. I could be stronger. Agiler. Faster. More calculating. More vicious. _I could be, I could be, I could be…_ My attacks could be more aggressive, my stance could be straighter. Like my father trained me, like he told me I should be.

The ghost of a great sting stirs my back muscles.

_I should be, I should be, I should be…_

“This ain’t about you not being enough, Zuko.”

I trip on my feet and barely avoid hitting the ground. Gyatso’s eyes follow me as I stabilize myself.

“What…” I am not sure if I am laughing or just _breathing_ nervously. “What do you mean?”

This time he does shrug. “Nothing. Why don’t you take a rest before continuing?”

 _Ugh_. “You _know_ I don’t have time to rest,” I remind him.

“That doesn’t sound like something an airbender would say.”

I _would_ like to argue with him… but he _is_ the only airbender around.

Growling, I go sit next to him at the edge of the dais.

“You seem distracted today,” he notes, his voice soft.

“I…” _am running out of time, keeping secrets, and fighting with the people I shouldn’t_. “I have a lot in my mind,” I settle.

“Oh! Having a dynamic mind is quite an advantage for airbenders.”

“It doesn’t feel like an advantage at the moment.”

“Must be because whatever is keeping your mind busy is interfering with your Ch’i[2],” Gyatso reasons.

He takes a broken stick from the ground and writes the kanji 氣 on the snow. “Ch’i is the vital force that forms part of all living entities. It translates as ‘air’. Fitting, right?”

My eyes follow his traces over the snow, I imagine myself copying them with my firebending. They would be different that way, the edges dented. (Not exactly an airbender look.) Ironically, it makes me want to draw the kanji by myself because I am used to that aggressive, serrated look. The sting on my back reappears when a realization comes over me: _It is the one I know best._

(Not exactly an airbender mindset.)

“And how can I fix my Ch’i?”

“It isn’t ‘fixed’,” Gyatso emphasizes, his tone deep, “It is balanced and cultivated with Qigong[3].” He draws its kanji 氣功 next. “But it involves a lot of breathing and meditation, and I know that is not of your taste. Besides, energy can’t be ‘fixed’, it ain’t something static. It changes, so it can be morphed, and be born as something new.”

This kanji’s marks are soft, too. It is still not the way I would have drawn it.

My palms tickle with a quiet, but bright instinct; the urge of my skin to be close to the fire. I rub them together to repress it.

“Can bad energy be turned into good energy?” I query.

All of Gyatso’s features are round; it gives his face a jovial aspect, especially his eyes. They glow with child-like compassion when they come up to meet mine. His wrinkles are the ones that make them look downer. Severer.

“Energy is neither good nor bad, Zuko. Our actions and choices put it through tests and through work, we make it useful, and only we can make it healing or destructive.”

“You can go on to practice your firebending for a while if you want,” he tells me after a pause, standing up. “I know you are anxious about it.”

I blink. “How did you…”

He grins. “Elders know more than what they appear.”

I scowl at him again.

*******

Did Gyatso had to show off like _that_? Pretentious monk! Seriously, _who_ does he think he is? Wasn’t he eavesdropping when I said _I_ am the one that is royalty? He thinks he knows everything only because he is old! Who the hell needs him!

I keep grunting and cursing on my way back to the camp.

Looks like Aang decided to come to the forest to practice his own airbending.

He is on a clear performing that walk Gyatso told me to do; visible, dense gusts come from his palms when he moves his hands in similar circular motions, and he catches the air again before it can leave the circle. He hasn’t noticed I am here him which is… surprising, considering how his eyes are usually going _everywhere_. The same way he is always moving even while he is standing in a same place; it contrasts with the controlled, calculated steps he is giving right now.

I probably should leave him alone to continue his practice, but I want to take note of his posture and his movements. See if I can copy them. (It is rather strange, isn’t it?) (That I am looking up to a _child_.)

(But, then again, Aang _is_ a talented bender.) 

I tell him so when he finishes his practice: “Nice moves, Aang.”

He gives a mild yelp at my voice, recognition fills his eyes once he turns. “Oh, thanks, Zuko. Geesh, you scared me.”

“I apologize.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I always zone out real hard when I’m training.”

Momo comes out of his shirt upon our conversation and planes over to me. When he drops himself, I have no other option than to catch him in my arms.

“Momo is a bit clingy after what happened in the labyrinth,” Aang clarifies, “I think he feels safe with you, too.”

“Oh.”

Momo stares at me with big, soulful eyes.

I move my arms to position him in a way I can carry him more… um… ergonomically.

“Aang, about what happened at the labyrinth…” I start. “About the skeletons…” his gaze falls, it darkens. “Have… Have you talked to Gyatso about it?”

I keep feeling like I want to punch myself! (Why is it that every time I _mean_ to say something, I say something else entirely?)

“No,” he answers, still looking down.

“Why not?” I ask.

He shrugs.

I watch him go sit at the feet of one tree. He doesn’t look like a doll anymore, he only looks… cold.

I go sit next to him.

“I think I am not a very good monk apprentice,” he declares.

“Why would you say that?”

“I’m always doing stuff I am supposed not to do, going to places I’m supposed not to go, thinking things I’m supposed not to think.”

“How is it that you are not supposed to think certain things?” Momo tries to climb to my head, I hold him back.

“It’s just…” Aang’s phrase turns into a melancholic whisper. “I see things different from what Air Nomad culture dictates. I try real hard to faithfully follow our precepts, but sometimes I don’t do it very well. I think sometimes they are disappointing, because I can’t see things the way I do, and I think I got disappointed again when I saw… what really was inside that labyrinth,” he finalizes. “It hurts to become disappointed in something you hold so close.”

My eyes mimic his look towards the ground. “Yes, I get what you mean.”

We stay in silence for a while longer; my hand distractedly pats Momo’s head.

“Maybe sometimes disappointment is not so bad,” I decide.

That prompts Aang to finally look at my face.

“Back at the Fire Nation, I figured out some dark truths about something” (someone) “that I held very dear. At first, I was sad and angry, and it made me do many things, and not all of them were good… but they brought me here. And… I know things haven’t been perfect... but everything is alright now. A little? I guess?”

One of Aang’s hands goes to his chin while he considers what I just said. (Did I… Did I explain myself properly?) (I could… I could have worded it better. Or use better analogies. Or metaphors. Or something!)

“Thanks, Zuko,” he brightens. “That actually makes me feel a bit better.”

“Really?”

His head gives a strong nod. “Really.”

“Oh… Glad that I could help then!”

“By the way, how did today’s practice go?”

“I still can’t create air by myself,” I continue restraining Momo from reaching my scalp. “Gyatso says something is interfering with my Ch’i.”

And because I can still feel his eyes on me, I add: “And I am a slow student, okay?”

“I think I can help with that.” He stands up. “I’ll tell you about it later. C’mon, Momo, let’s go find Gyatso.”

Momo flies from my arms to his shoulder.

*******

My conversation with Aang made me feel considerably better than what I was feeling the rest of the day. Making him feel better made _me_ feel better. How odd. But I like it!

Reminiscing about life at the Fire Nation wasn’t something I enjoyed. It has become something I don’t enjoy at all… but it made me put certain things in perspective. The flashbacks to the Agni Kai with my father, the nightmares, the memories of the Fire Nation at night and under its broad sun. Everything changes, it comes to my mind in a different way. The only thing that does not change is the angry stare of my father, not even when I remember easier, happier times. The time before I was revealed as the Avatar.

It… Those times… they feel like they weren’t ever real.

They feel like ghosts, like… other things that I have remembered today. I wonder… I _want_ to think that ours… was a happy family.

In a way. For some time. For whatever little time it was.

I want to believe it _so_ badly. I want to believe my father used to be proud of me, even if it was in the past. That my mother was with me. That my brother… didn’t hate me. I want to believe that I belonged.

I want to hang on to those… illusions, memories; I don’t care what they are, but I don’t want them to go! Not now, not yet, I… _can’t let go_.

I almost don’t notice when I get to the stables looking for Druk; Katara is there, petting him.

We both freeze when we catch sight of one another. My mouth falls slightly open.

“Oh…” Her hands slowly go away from Druk’s nose. She pulls out a smile after brushing a hair behind her ear, “Hey, Zuko! How was airbending practice today?”

I wonder if I could ask Druk to hide me inside his mouth for a while. I kind of look at him silently praying that he will, but he only stares at me blankly.

_Stupid dragon!_

“Um… Good!” I tell Katara. “Gyatso is still putting me to perform antique airbending exercises.”

“Good.” She nods.

The dense, awkward silence begins between us.

“I… was just passing by to play with Druk for a while,” Katara indicates. “I didn’t know you’d come back so early.”

 _I didn’t know you’d come back so early_.

Right.

“Gyatso told me I could come to practice my firebending.”

“Oh…” she repeats. Same word, same forced smile. “Later then!”

She twirls around and leaves, I don’t have time to stop her.

And it is not that I have a good enough of an excuse to make her stay, just… _Don’t go_.

Druk is still staring at me with his know-it-all face.

“What?” I protest. “I didn’t do anything!”

He grunts and curls into himself. It is his way of saying _‘And I didn’t say anything’_.

*******

The next morning, I take back what I said about enjoying cheering Aang up.

“Zuko, Zuko! Wake up!”

I dig my face into my pillow. “Why?”

He carries on his efforts to shake me awake. “We are going on a trip!”

Spirits, is way too early for this!

*******

At least I am not the only one irritated by this surprise trip. “Aang, can you at least tell us where are we going?” Sokka’s demand is audible even when Druk and I fly next to Appa. (Sokka and Katara decided to ride with Aang.)

Aang’s cheery, sing-song voice breaks through the wind. “I told you it is a surprise!”

It _really_ is way too early for this!

The wind becomes lighter as Aang guides us to the southerner regions of the Tanggula Mountains, the weather transforms from deep cold to tempered. It is a nice change compared to the thick snow at the camp. The landscape is also nice, it is as if watching the layers of snow melt while we fly; Druk makes a little pleased sound to let me know he likes it here, too.

I like this place: the mountains, the Southern Air Nomad village. Last week has been… _normal_. Like… it has only been Aang, Sokka, Katara, and I sharing a punishment for our collective stupidity; Gyatso watching over us, calling us to our meals, calling me to my airbending training. It is… a comfortable routine. I mean –

“Okay, guys, we are here!” Aang proclaims once we land.

“Where are we?” I wonder.

“This is the Khong river[4]! Check it out!”

We follow his gesture to the rest of the scenery. The river is _massive_ , the current powerful but calm at the same time. Thin channels disembogue in wide lakes across lanes of forest green grass encircled by pronounced hills. It is hidden but open at the same time. 

Sokka, Katara and I gape in unison: “ _Whoa!_ ”

“Aang, it’s beautiful!” Katara exclaims.

“But what are we doing here?” I venture.

“We were grounded for all the past week, I thought about celebrating it is over by bringing you guys for a swim,” he says. “Gyatso told me it was okay.”

“Aang, you know I don’t have time to– ”

Appa roars and hops into one of the river’s mouths. What is a small step for him creates a big fucking wave for us, wetting us all. Sokka spits the water that fell inside his mouth.

“Are you kidding me?” I screech.

“Ha, ha,” Katara teases, looking at her brother and me while she unties her braids, “Now you two know what it feels like.”

“See, guys? Appa is already in the mood!” Aang beams. “C’mon, I’ll teach y’all windsurfing!”

He takes off his shirt and jumps into the water. (Simple like that.)

I look over to Katara and Sokka. He is the first one to shrug: “We are already here.”

And he proceeds to take off his parka.

“What, for _real_?” They _can’t_ be serious! (Someone tell me they aren’t serious.)

Katara copies his shrug. “We _had_ a stressful week.”

She takes off her parka next, and the rest of the blue-colored fabric she wears beneath it. Her hair tousles when she removes her shirt and her fingers comb it over her shoulders. The only remaining cover on her upper half is her white sarashi; the burn scar on her back is in full display, it descends in line with her spine. Its pinkish tone and the whiteness of her sarashi crash against Katara’s warm brown skin. Deep warm brown.

She very nearly shines bronze…

Sokka snaps his fingers right in front of my eyes. “Looking for something?”

I am taken aback: “Wha… _What?_ What are you talking about?”

“ _Dude_. You were ogling my _sister_ right in front of _me_! Seriously, is nothing sacred anymore?”

“I wasn’t _ogling!_ ”

“I better get in the water now,” Katara muses, all her clothes away and discarded on the ground.

She looks like a water goddess.

A few drops from the lake hit me on the face when she dives in.

“Hey,” Sokka warns, “I am watching you.” And he makes the dumb thing of pointing to his eyes and then at me.

He jumps in next.

Aang waits for them to swim closer and uses his airbending to cut the water and splash them some more, Katara splashes him back without her bending. Sokka uses Momo as some kind of towel/shield. All of them seem so happy…

Druk’s nose gives me a light push from behind. Then another.

“You want me to go in, too?”

He whimpers and nods.

“You know I am not good at social things. Don’t you remember all the events I spent at the dragon stalls back at the Fire Palace?”

He somewhat laughs.

“And you know about…” my hand goes to my back “the other stuff.”

He gives a small half-cry.

“So you think I need to relax, huh?”

He nods again.

“Fine, if you are so worried, I will do it.”

He brightens.

“I will wet my feet in and then get out.”

He frowns.

I take off my boots before approaching the water. It isn’t cold, not much.

Aang, Katara, and Sokka are still having fun with each other. They don’t need me, they don’t seem to notice I am not there. It is for the best; what I told Druk was true, I am not good at social meetings. I am not the kind of person people feel comfortable with, I am better off with animals like Druk. Or this frog-faced softshell turtle[5] tangled in algae that is having difficulties getting into the water.

Druk approaches it hungrily. 

“No, Druk, you are not eating it,” I tell him. Then I detangle the turtle. It has it easier to get into the water after that.

“ _Awwwwwww!_ ”

“ _Ah!_ ” I yelp back.

Katara smirks up at me from the water, her arms crossed resting over the edge of the river’s mouth, a few ends of her wet hair leak over them.

“Do you always have to come out of nowhere like that?” I wonder.

“No,” she admits, “but it is fun.”

I give her a dry look.

“Where are Aang and Sokka?” I end up asking.

She points to somewhere away into the channels. Aang brought a slider with him for this – an improvised sailboat-like board with a long piece of orange cloth attached to it – he is using it to teach Sokka to windsurf as he said he would.

“You don’t want to get in the water?” Katara asks.

“I… um… am not really a fan of swimming,” I say.

“I try to not take that as a personal offense,” she jokes.

It brings a small smile to my face. “It isn’t that.”

“It’s okay,” she agrees. “So… now you’re a turtle rescuer, too?”

I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”

“And you still think you are not a sweet guy?”

“You are making it too much of a big deal.”

“Am I?” she smirks.

I stare at her some more. Water flows down her neck and pools at her clavicle and the cleavage of her sarashi. I push my eyes away, blushing.

“I thought you were mad at me,” I conclude, recalling the past week.

The radiance of her natural optimism doesn’t leave her face, but a dark shade of hurt mixes in it. Guilt settles at my gut, and I open my mouth to apologize for everything that has happened – for me being a mess, for not knowing what to do with myself – but Katara is faster. When her eyes meet mine again they aren’t hurt, they are sober. So is her voice:

“I wasn’t mad at you, Zuko. You said we weren’t friends, I was trying to give you some space.”

My mouth shuts close.

“I didn’t really say we weren’t friends,” I remind her after a pause.

“You didn’t really say much.”

I know.

“You don’t have to call me your friend, Zuko, if you don’t want to,” she continues. “But it’s hard to be the one that’s always making the effort for things to work.”

Suddenly the water, the atmosphere, the very ground, Katara’s presence feels… stony. Away. “I am sorry.”

She doesn’t reply, but her silence is indulgent.

“You wanted to know me better, right?” I ask.

She eyes me with a curious expression, before nodding.

“Tell me what you want to know.”

(I _know_ what she wants to know.) (And I want to _try_ to answer it.)

“What does your name mean?”

(Okay… I wasn’t expecting _that_.)

“ _‘Zuko’_ is not a very common name,” Katara explains further. “What does it mean? ‘Katara’ means droplet, for example. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

It is, indeed; Katara’s eyes truly resemble droplets of liquid water. Splashing, twinkling, lively, peaceful. I can feel their refreshing energy whenever she looks at me. She matches her native element.

“Glory,” I answer. “It means glory.”

“How is it written?”

I draw the kanjis into the ground with my fingers.

ズーコ

_Zuko._

“How is ‘Katara’ written?”

She looks at my name’s kanji for a few seconds, studying it intently. Then she smiles.

“The Water Tribes have their own language.” Water drips from all of her body when she pushes herself to sit at the edge of the river like me, retaining enough space for her to draw her own name next to mine.

ᑲᑕᕋ [6]

_Katara._

“See?” She points to the three characters separately, individually. “ _Ka… ta… ra_.”

I watch her fingers count the fonts. My own fingers come to float over them, tracing them in thin air. 

“Oh, by the way, aren’t you cold?” I ask, awareness hitting me. “Since you just came out of the water and all… Um… Do you want to take my jacket again?”

I don’t wait for her answer before taking it off and putting it over her shoulders.

Katara giggles, “Thanks.” She embraces herself into the jacket, “But you’re still not a sweet guy, right?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Aang and Sokka sail in our direction discarding the water and using Aang’s airbending only. “Hey, what are you two talking about?”

“Zuko is not a fan of swimming,” Katara replies.

“Say what?” Aang pouts.

“Huh. I think we should’ve guessed that,” Sokka states dryly.

I pour water into my hand and splatter it on his face.

“Oh, sorry.” _Not._

Aang and Katara laugh while Sokka wipes the excess of water with one of his hands, glaring at me. “You feel very brave for being in the element of the Water Tribe, fiery boy.”

“Last that I heard, _Katara_ was the waterbender here.”

“Yeah, but we are siblings. We share everything.”

“Really?” Katara inquires, sarcastic and self-importantly. “Then why can’t I touch your weaponry bag?”

Sokka makes a face, “Because those are not for _girls_.”

This time, Katara is the one that spatters water on her brother’s face using her own bending. He falls from the glider. Aang, Katara, and I laugh at it.

“Typical,” Sokka spits water yet again, “Everybody gangs up on the smart, charismatic guy.”

“We’ll make sure to do that once we _find_ a guy like that,” Katara vows, smirking.

Sokka’s eyes narrow at her.

Druk comes from behind my back and pushes me into the water.

“Or maybe it doesn’t _always_ have to be a guy like that,” Sokka muses.

*******

This trio of lunatics convinced me to stay in the water. More accurately, they distracted me from getting out by starting a splashing contest, and then Aang dragged us upstream – (not literally) – so he could continue his windsurfing lesson.

To be honest… I am not complaining, this is… nice. Like what I felt when I thought about how much I like these mountains. Even better, because the tension between the four of us disappeared. There are no recent fights or resentment lurking when we are together. It is just… us. Together. Here.

“Shouldn’t you take your shirt off, too, while we’re swimming?” Katara asks from my side while we watch Aang and Sokka struggle with the slider. “You could really catch a cold like that.”

I haven’t removed my shirt since Druk shoved me into the river – (which reminds me that I will be giving him the cold-shoulder for a _month!_ See if he likes that!) – My lips press together in concern, the same one that stretches my stomach, twisting it and tying it in tense knots. It is nearly hard to breathe like this, the pain is too real.

“Katara,” I pronounce her name aloud, even though I only meant to think it. “Would you still want to be my friend… if you found out something bad about me? Something awful.”

Her answer is not immediate, but this silence is not awkward. It is pleasant and brief; the kind of silence that comes when you already know an answer: “Yes.”

**Katara**

I watch Zuko pull off his garnet-red shirt by his shoulders, his other scars – the ones all over his torso and on his back – reveal themselves slowly with each shift and movement. I know I have seen them before, all the times I have treated his injuries, but every time I do, they look different. Sometimes their color is faint and barely visible against Zuko’s skin. Some other times, they look fleshier, in just a _slightly_ lesser way than his scarred eye.

Today, they have that grimmer appearance.

Mainly the ones on his back, the others on his chest and stomach are healed, moon-colored cuts. But the ones going down from his shoulders blades to his waist are a more notorious, fleshy pink. Healed as well, yet the injuries were obviously too deep for the skin to patch itself properly. They are slim, long, straight scars.

 _Whipping_ scars _._

“I don’t really like being shirtless,” Zuko starts, his fingers tracing a transversal cut over his chest and absently climbing to his shoulder. He isn’t looking at me, he is embarrassed. “When the War was about to start… when my father was planning it… he wanted me to be the weapon he would use to defeat the other nations. That was not long after I was first proclaimed as the Avatar, that is why I didn’t learn the other elements sooner… he wanted me to defeat the rest of the world using firebending only. Prove the greatness of the Fire Nation with it.”

Nausea stirs at my core.

“But I wasn’t a complete firebending master back then, either,” he continues, “and I… learned slowly. So he used to… spur me.”

His hand finally reaches his shoulder, one pinkish tip near the curve of his neck.

I manage to keep my voice serene despite the dark feeling inside me, turning itself into a dark hole that is swallowing me from the inside out. “He used to whip you.”

He nods. “With firebending whips. For getting the message across.”

My blood quits its course through my body, freezing, stopping my heart and my organs. My eyes fixate on the place Zuko’s fingers used to be. Looking at him upfront, it’d impossible to tell such a seemingly small mark was part of such a much greater damage. Zuko watches me intently as I stare at it, and I know I should look away, but… 

My hand slowly – so very slowly, like we were in a dream from which I am waking up – comes closer to it…

Zuko’s muscles jump violently once my fingers come nearby enough to brush the skin there.

“Sorry.” _He_ is the one who apologizes. “I don’t like people touching my scars, even the doctors at the Palace had to restrain me in order to treat them.”

“No, no, it was my fault,” I rush to say, “I am the one who overstepped.”

**Zuko**

I think about what I told Gyatso about Katara, Aang, and Sokka barely knowing me.

There are certain things that are better left unknown, things that are easier to look at if you don’t know the history behind them. If something is only broken on the inside, people can’t tell it is defective, useless; they can’t if the fractures remain hidden… but Katara is seeing mine.

Her hand comes closer once more, her fingers flutter over my sternum. It is one of the few pieces of my skin that don’t have any scars and she carefully avoids the rest of them. Then her hand moves to the right side of my face, the unscarred one. This feels different from when she hugged me at the labyrinth; it feels more like a choice, not just an impulse.

I can see the remaining bruises on her wrist; they have become a faded shade of purplish-blue. A part of me wants to take her wrist and caress them. To comfort her. To try some of that physical reassurance that Katara always does. But I…

**Katara**

I watch Zuko’s hand drop clumsily from the space separating us.

It’s all starting to come together now. Ever since the start, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to reach out to me, he didn’t know how to. He has never known. In some way, I think I should be relieved. (None of the fights and silences and misunderstandings have been our fault.) But it is not relief that I feel, it is dread. Sadness.

“It isn’t that I don’t want to call us friends, Katara,” Zuko’s voice is delicate, “I just… I think there are… things about me… that aren’t well, and… I need time… to get used to... a lot of stuff.”

“I understand.”

_I understand, Zuko._

I glide my hand _away_ from his face. His skin is soft.

Aang and Sokka are still battling to keep Sokka from falling off the slider. Appa, Momo, and Druk are shaking the extra water from their bodies. Their laughs, half-hearted complaints, and the swash of the water fill the scenery, this beautiful river and mountains. It is isolated; it’s only the four of us relaxing, and swimming, and being silly together. For once, not everything is about mere survival or avoiding a catastrophe.

“This is nice,” I smile at Zuko.

He smiles back. “It is.”

*******

**Zuko**

We return to the camp at sundown. Spirits, I am _exhausted!_ Druk is, too; I think Katara as well for the way she leans against my back while we ride back to the camp, (she flew with me on this one). Sokka is asleep and snoring on Appa’s back, Appa and Druk are flying fairly low. And we are all _starving_.

Gyatso receives us once we land at the village’s entrance, Aang comes down from Appa to give him an excited embrace.

“How did it go, kids?” Gyatso wonders, surrounding Aang in his arms. “Did you have fun?”

“We had a blast!” Aang assures him.

The rest of us are considerably less energetic than him. Katara drags her feet over the snow, Sokka falls from Appa’s back; I feel drained, my muscles are sore. However, Aang is right about something: it _was_ fun. Our shared delight is palpable in the air.

“Glad to hear that,” Gyatso’s own eyes light up with satisfaction upon seeing our grinning faces. “And I hope you are hungry, I made egg custard tart.”

Aang beams at him. “Whoa! Swimming day _and_ egg custard tart for dinner? Is it my birthday?”

“We’ll make sure to do this again on your birthday, Aang,” Sokka promises him.

“Awesome! But first…” He goes to look for something in the bag he took for the trip, a large rock that he picked up when we were returning. “Zuko, do you remember the airbending moves you saw me doing?”

“Yes,” I say.

He puts the rock in his hand on top of a much bigger, table-sized one close to us. “Try to shoot one to this rock.”

I blink. “What?”

His shrug is nonchalant. “Just do it.”

Gyatso shrugs, too, once I look at him for confirmation.

Whatever, I guess. (How was it that Aang did?) Position myself in a low stance, bowing my knees. Circular motions of my hands around one another. Extending my right hand ahead…

A blast of air comes out of my palm and tumbles down the rock Aang was carrying. My jaw drops at the same time that it does.

“There you go!”

 _How… What…_ I turn to Aang. “How did you…”

“You said something was interfering with your energy, right?” he recalls as if _nothing_ that just happened was a big deal! “I know you’re not a fan of meditation and nothing like it so, on top of celebrating our punishment was over, I thought a day out would help you loosen up.”

 _This_ kid!

Katara crushes him in a hug and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Aang, you are the _best!_ ”

“Best airbending master _ever!_ ” Sokka cheers. “No offense, Gyatso.”

“Why would I be offended that someone gave my student the credit he deserves?”

I am _elated_ , euphoria rises from deep inside my chest. I am smiling so hard my face hurts _._ “Druk, did you see _that?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia:
> 
> [1] This is a reference to the practice of Baguazhang, also called Bagua or Pakua chang, the Chinese martial art that inspired Airbending. All its forms use circle walking as an essential part of training.
> 
> [2] Qi or Ch’i: It is believed to be a vital force that is part of any living entity. Qi translates as “air”.
> 
> [3] Qigong: It is a millennia-old system of coordinated body-posture and movement, breathing, and meditation utilized for health and spirituality purposes and martial arts training.
> 
> [4] This is a reference to the Mekong River, a trans-boundary river in East Asia and Southeast Asia. It is the world's twelfth longest river and the seventh longest in Asia. It is originally called “Mae Nam Khong” from a diminished form of Tai shortened to “Mae Khong”. “Khong” is an ancient word meaning “river”, lent from Austroasiatic languages, such as Vietnamese.
> 
> [5] Frog-faced softshell turtle: The Asian giant softshell turtle, also known as Cantor's giant softshell turtle and the frog-faced softshell turtle, is a species of freshwater turtle native to Southeast Asia. The species is endangered and throughout the 20th century it has disappeared from much of its former range, but it can still be found along a stretch of the Mekong River in Cambodia.
> 
> [6] Katara’s name written in Inuktitut language.


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